


Inferno

by ArcticLucie



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Firefighters, Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, An explosion or 2, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Creepy!Pete, Daryl hates Rick, Drunk blowjobs, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Firefighter auction, Hurt Daryl, Idiots in Love, Kitchen fires galore, Lots of people are OOC, Love/Hate, M/M, Merle's nice-ish, Minor Blood and Gore, Minor Violence, Mutual Pining, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Rickyl, Sexting, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Suspense, Who's the arsonist?, slowest burn in the history of slow burns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 08:08:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 48
Words: 164,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3242453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcticLucie/pseuds/ArcticLucie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seriously? Is there really not a firefighter AU in this fandom? Gotta fix that!</p><p>After his wife and unborn daughter are killed by a drunk driver, Rick Grimes moves him and his son Carl to Atlanta to start over. A month later, he receives a temporary job offer to replace Daryl Dixon while the man recovers from being hurt on the job. Meanwhile, Daryl focuses all his fears about being replaced into hating Rick and running him off to secure his job. His plan proves harder than he initially thought, especially so when they end up in bed.</p><p>  <i>"Christ, Rick! How the fuck did this happen?!"</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It Began Eight Months Ago

**Author's Note:**

> This idea rose from comments on my other fic [You Can't Fight Fate](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3126194/chapters/6775328) and I thought, 'Hey, the gang as firefighters would be HOT!' The plot bunnies took over after that. 
> 
> Early chapters are unbeta'ed, but the later ones are mostly beta'ed by the lovely [MermaidSheenaz.](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MermaidSheenaz)
> 
> Enjoy!

 [(Alternate background)](http://pre11.deviantart.net/f6b9/th/pre/f/2015/341/c/d/coverart_for_inferno__alternate_background__by_archlucie-d9jeubu.jpg)

 

For the first time in his life Rick woke up in a warm bed that wasn't his by purchase or assignment. Underneath him was a hot, cut body marred by scars that he believed still managed to be perfection incarnate. The two fit so snuggly together that, for a moment, he thought that the Jaws of Life wouldn't be strong enough to cut them apart.

One of his arms was flung over said body's shoulder, his cheek resting on the other on its chest as it rose and fell with every steady breath. There were strong, rippling biceps wrapped around him, fingers interlocked together on his upper back, thumbs drawing random patterns on his skin driving a spike of arousal down his spine. He smiled sleepily and kissed the relatively soft, dark brown hair on the body's sternum.

He lifted his head and rested his chin on his hands in order to prevent discomfort to the sculpted adonis below him. He was met with a crooked smile and two fiercely blues eyes that were gazing into his own, and with that, he was breathless. Suddenly, their nakedness dawned on him as their half morning erections rub together when he wiggled, and with that, his throat went dry.

"I think I'm in love with you," Daryl said, in lieu of his usual greeting to Rick that mostly consisted of the words 'Hey' and 'Asshole,' not necessarily in that order.

Rick let out a hard sigh of defeat, "I know....me too...."

"Christ, Rick! How the _fuck_ did this happen?!"

 

* * *

 

**Eight Months Ago**

Rick Grimes was looking forward to his first day at his new firehouse. And that fact terrified him.

After the death of his wife eighteen months previously, life had become nothing but a dull haze to him, like he was floating around in a thick fog, his days guided by nothing but muscle memory, every step feeling like he was trudging through mud. That was his life now, and he was used to it. The thought of looking forward to getting out of bed....well, he wasn't quite sure what to do with that.

Lori had been killed in a drunk driving accident along with their unborn daughter. They had been childhood sweethearts and he immediately become a shell of his former self without her, their identities having been so closely interwoven for over three decades. He was thankful that he still had his son, but the boy was slowly drifting away from him due to what Rick thought were both teenage angst and his own grief.

He tried to move on, to shake himself out of the state he was in, if for nothing else than for Carl's sake, but the memories of her tormented him to the core. They lived in a small town and he couldn't drive down the road a single block without apparitions of her and their life together clouding his vision. It was as if he was living in his own personal hell, a world haunted by demons that not only stalked his darkened dreams but also his every waking hour.

A month ago, he quit his job at the local fire department, sold their house that was more like a tomb now than a home, and moved him and his son to the big city of Atlanta to start their lives over. He knew it was cowardly, running from the memories, but he had to do something before he sank any further into the abyss, before he dragged his son along with him.

He had bought a condo in a good school system near his sister, Carol, and applied for a job at the nearest fire station. He was getting discouraged after not having heard back for a month and wasn't sure what else to do career wise. Being a firefighter had been his life since he graduated high school and the thought of losing that too was almost crippling.

He was picking up Carl from school one day when he received a call from the captain of Firehouse Twelve. There had been a huge explosion at a chemical plant nearby a few days prior and one of the firefighters from their house had been injured and another killed during the battle against the blaze. Captain Merle Dixon said the job would only be temporary until the injured man could return to work, but his injuries would most likely sideline him for three months.

At this point, Rick was going to take whatever he could get. He was hoping that if he impressed the captain that he'd find a place to put him after the other man returned to duty. He wasn't about to steal the man's job after his heroics, but it would be nice to have something to do other than sitting around the apartment all day twiddling his thumbs.

He was giddy for the rest of the day knowing that tomorrow he'd be back in a somewhat familiar setting doing something so natural to him that it was like he hadn't taken a breath since his last shift in King's County five weeks ago. His excitement was so overwhelming that it had almost started to bow his lean body in on itself.

It was contagious, too. He had actually managed to coax a smile out of Carl at dinner over pizza and some show about zombies that the boy was really into. At the same time he was beaming to see a smile on his son's face, he was saddened that he couldn't remember the last time Carl had had one. And by the look he received in return when he cracked one of his own, the young man was thinking the same thing of him.

Carl had been upset about leaving his old school in the middle of the school year and was hesitant about starting a new one. Luckily, one of his schoolmates lived in the building, and once they became friends, he realized that things weren't as bad as he imagined they'd be.

He had fears about what kids were like in the big city because all he had known was small town living. Patrick teased him a bit about his accent that was a little thicker than most of the other students, but he was glad his wasn't nearly as atrocious as his father's. In all honesty, he had expected to get picked on or bullied and was glad when everyone he'd met had been fairly nice to him.

He was completely against the idea of moving when his dad had first brought it up, but after a month, he had a hard time finding anything to complain about.

At first, he thought his dad only wanted to move so he could forget about his mother. Rick kept saying that they needed to start their lives over again, to make a fresh start. He couldn't deny that he had had the same idea a time or two, the only thing squelching it was the guilt of letting his mother's memory fade. Those fears were alleviated when the first thing Rick did after moving in was put up their family photos and stick the sonogram of the baby on the fridge where it had hung at their old place which, he had to admit, had become lonely and eerily quiet without his mother.

Rick had done so only for Carl's peace of mind. The pictures were a little haunting to him, but he wanted Carl to remember his mother as much as he could. He wanted to remember her too, he truly did, but he couldn't take the memories of her over-saturating his life in King's County, them being the biggest reason for the move.

He still considered himself a married man—not even entertaining the idea of looking at another woman—and wore his wedding band which he was certain he'd never take off. Lori's rings had a place on the nightstand, and one day he hoped to give them to Carl when he found the woman he'd someday call his.

"Hey Carl, I'm calling it a night," Rick said. "Are ya sure your gonna be okay here tomorrow until Aunt Carol can pick ya up?"

"Yeah, dad," he huffed, rolling his eyes in typical teenage fashion. He was looking forward to seeing his cousin Sophia. She was the only person he knew who understood what he was going through after having lost her own father to lung cancer the year before his mother died.

"Alright, I just don't wanna get a call on my first day to my own home after my son set fire to the kitchen," he teased. "I'd never live it down," he hollered back down the hall as he made his way to his room.

He went straight to the master bath and took out his razor. He hadn't shaved in a month, and had appreciated the opportunity to let himself go a little. It had been rather therapeutic. He thought he looked pretty damn good with a scruffy beard, but facial hair wasn't allowed on the job due to the fact that it could interfere with the seal on their equipment. It was strange to think that a little facial hair could be the difference between life and death.

That wasn't a risk he could take. It was bad enough that Carl had lost one parent already, it was unacceptable for him to be orphaned. That was the only thing Rick had worried about with moving to the big city. Fires in their small town were hardly deadly. He knew the ones in Atlanta would potentially be far more dangerous. Lori had wholeheartedly supported his career, but he doubted she would approve of the move, or even of him going back to work now that he was one call away from leaving their son completely alone.

Seeing himself in the mirror again clean shaven was, in a way, disheartening. He had wanted to forget himself as a lonely grieving widower—the wiry beard had done wonders for that—but staring back at him now was the man he'd been running from for months. That meant he'd be back to avoiding his reflection as much as possible.

He grabbed a quick shower and shuffled out of the bathroom without another look in the mirror. He pulled on a pair of boxers and a t-shirt before sliding into bed. He knew it would take him awhile to fall asleep as he wondered what the next day would bring. New faces, new places, and a new start. Morning couldn't come fast enough.

*****

Daryl Dixon had had the shittiest week of his life.

First, Amy, his girlfriend of three years had dumped him. She claimed she couldn't put up with the stress of dating a firefighter—the dangers and unsteady hours—when he damn well knew that was a lie. She had jumped right into bed with another guy from Firehouse Seventeen. "Good riddance!" he yelled as he threw her clothes out of his apartment window.

Three days later, he had to lay his bike down on a rain-soaked road after a pile up on the way to work. He wasn't hurt, just a few bruises and bumps, but his bike was pretty scratched up. Worst part was that his damn brother laid into him in front of the whole house for being late that day. He got him back when he loosened the screws in his desk chair. Ol' Captain Merle went to sit down and fell flat on his ass. He laughed hard.

If that wasn't bad enough, their truck was the first on the scene to the call for the chemical plant explosion two days after that. He had a gut feeling that something bad was going to happen as soon as he slipped into his boots at the house.

They were ushered right in through the gates onto the vast complex. The fire was in one of the manufacturing areas in the back and people on foot were waving them forward as the flock filed toward the parking lots. The truck pulled up to the curb of a flaming three-story building, and immediately, they hit the ground running.

Shane had been driving which was probably why they were the first to arrive. When they exited the truck, they were instantly smothered with a wave of intense heat. People were still pouring out of the doors in panic as the building in front of them burned. The chemical fires in the plant would be left to HAZMAT, they would take care of the office building.

Daryl always liked to arrive first when multiple companies were called in because that usually meant they ran point on the operation. By the time they got the hoses laid out, another house had arrived along with several ambulances and EMS services. They headed in for search and rescue as soon as the rest of their house had arrived leaving everyone else to follow their lead and battle the flames.

Clearing the first floor would be the easy part. They left that to House Nine freeing them for the second floor. The explosion happened in a manufacturing area behind the building and the flames had jumped onto the top of the office building to work their way down. There were a few stragglers, but for the most part, the floor was clear.

They started up the stairs to the third floor and Daryl's heart sped up. Him and Shane were in front, Otis behind him and T-Dog behind Shane. T-Dog wanted to turn around as soon as they reached the floor, but Shane insisted that they attempt to make a quick sweep. The flames were everywhere, and after taking a few steps, Daryl shot Shane a heavy look. They both knew that there were was no one to rescue judging by the state of the place.

They really needed to get out of there. Daryl was sweating profusely, both from the heat and from his nerves. He wasn't the most cautious and careful man of the house, but he wasn't stupid. And he certainly didn't have a death wish, even though everyone accused him of having one with his career and the motorcycle he was hardly ever seen without.

"Okay, le's go back down," Shane finally relented.

They were almost back to the stairs when a ceiling beam broke free. There had been no time to react before the thing fell on Daryl and Otis. The next thing he remembered he was pinned by something heavy and his ribs hurting like hell. Shane and T-Dog were struggling to move the beam, their words ringing in his ear but not sinking into his brain. After his haze subsided, he could hear Shane yelling for help.

The rest was a blur. He could feel the relief in his chest when the beam was finally lifted, but it was soon replaced with an aching burn. He remembered the angle of the stairs as he was pulled down them to the second level. He could just make out Otis' limp body slung over T-Dog's shoulder as they exited the building.

Next thing he knew, there were a few familiar faces staring down at him. Sasha and Bob, two of their house EMT's, were hovering over him, the former reassuring him that he was going to be fine, but he could see the worry on her face. Michonne was driving; he could hear her asking for his stats every few minutes. He passed out from the pain shorty after.

He woke up in the burn unit with Merle's ugly mug staring down at him.

"What th' hell you lookin' at?" he asked with a wince and a painful coughing fit that threatened to rip his body apart at the seams.

"Ya scared the shit outta me, baby brother," Merle admitted.

For a split second, Daryl was scared out of his mind. Merle only said that when things were really bad. It instantly transported him back to the first time he woke up in a burn ward. He was seven and was caught in a house fire when their mother fell asleep smoking. Daryl was trapped inside and suffered second degree burns all over his back. He hated those damn scars for years, only embracing them after he'd been on the job for awhile. Now, he wore them with pride.

Merle and Daryl were both destined to become firefighters after that experience.

"How bad?" he mumbled.

"Gonna be fine. Just broke some ribs and got some burns on your side. Nothin' too serious."

"Otis?"

Merle looked away without a word. Daryl knew what that meant, his wife was now a widow.

"When can I leave?" Daryl asked, suddenly feeling very exposed in his hospital gown as his throat constricted with grief for his fallen brother.

"Two, maybe three days."

"I can't fuckin' stay here that long, Merle. I'm already goin' crazy and I just woke up!" He drew his hand down his tired face and let out a frustrated groan. What was he supposed to do all cooped up like that?

"Ain't gonna be that bad."

"When can I go back ta work?"

"They're pro'ly gonna bench ya for three months. That's standard for this sorta thing."

"What the hell am I suppose ta do for three months?" he stated more than asked, slightly raising his voice a half octave. He let out another groan and slammed his head back into his pillow. He regretted the action instantly when his ribs cried out with an icy fury that made him feel like he was being stabbed to death.

"I imagine you'll be buggin' us at the house. Just can't seem ta get rid of yer sorry ass," Merle muttered. "Amy comin'?"

"She moved out," Daryl said quietly, not in the mood for that pathetic story at the moment.

"Why tha fuck she do that for?" Merle's voice showed concern, but his eyes were anything but sincere. Him and the 'Blondie' sisters could never get along. It was bad enough that the other, Andrea, was married to Shane.

"Moved on ta fuck some bastard from Seventeen. The fuckin' bitch! Shoulda kicked her ass out months ago anyway. Damn fire bunnies."

Their conversation trailed off into comfortable silence after that. Daryl was monumentally frustrated at the week he had had but at least the morphine drip was nice and took the edge off his ribs. The good thing was that it couldn't possibly get any worse.

So he thought.

"Gonna have ta hire a replacement till yer back on yer feet," Merle said as he stared out the window. He knew Daryl was going to be angry about that and wasn't about to face him when he broke the news.

"Ya gonna fuckin' replace me?! Fuck you, Merle!" he howled.

"I ain't replacin' ya Darlena. Ya know we're gonna need someone ta pick up the slack. No way will ya be able ta move without those ribs hurting like fire for weeks and those burns are gonna feel like hell for awhile. Those are just tha facts," Merle explained calmly. Daryl had just suffered severe trauma and he knew he didn't need to get too worked up.

"What about the probie that graduates next week?" Daryl pouted, stubbornly crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child.

"Already got him put in Otis' spot," Merle said, voice cracking at the mention of the name.

"Don't ya dare give my job away, asshole!" Daryl growled.

Merle left an hour later to look for someone to cover Daryl's shifts. After that it was just him and his thoughts. Most of them were concerned with the idea that his brother would replace him and ways that he could prevent it from happening. Daryl Dixon was not a vindictive man, but in this instance, with his identity so tied to Firehhouse Twelve, he couldn't help but fully embraced the plan that formed in his drug-riddled brain.

As soon as he was released from the hospital, he was going to spend every waking hour at the firehouse. And he was going to do whatever it took to drive away anyone who, he even so much as thought, would try to take his place.

What he hadn't counted on was that Rick Grimes would prove to be a formidable opponent, and that in eight months time, he'd realize that his greatest nemesis was in fact the love of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know nothing about firefighting, only going on what google tells me and pop culture. If I mess something up, just point and laugh. You have permission.
> 
> *Regarding the shifts (since I've received a few questions about them along the way): They all work in the same house but they have 3 different shifts that work every third day. The rotation will go Prison (which is the main shift with Rick and Daryl), Woodbury (Philip, Martinez, Milton, ect), then Red (Abe, Rosita, and company). Tara is on prison shift because I put her there before I came up with them, oops, and she's kind of an enigma. This follows the order in which everyone was introduced in canon. It's not terribly important, just explaining it for clarity's sake.


	2. First Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick's first day at the firehouse; Daryl leaves the hospital.

Rick woke up just as giddy as when he went to sleep. His stomach was still twisted in nervous knots and he couldn't help but bounce on the balls of his feet down the hallway to the kitchen. With the coffee underway, he started cooking some eggs and sausage. They had been doing cereal every morning, but Rick wanted something hearty for today.

After they ate, Carl went to his room to get ready for school. Rick had been taking him since they moved in, but his shift started too early to do that today. Carl had been aching to ride the bus with Patrick anyway, claiming it was a rite of passage. Rick could've argued and had Carol take him, but he decided to give him one considering both of their chipper moods. It felt like, that for once, they had both woken up on the right side of their beds on the same day. Rare.

Rick was getting restless waiting for 6:40 a.m. to come around. His first twenty-four hour shift started at seven. The firehouse was five minutes away, and he wanted to be early, but not 'I have no life' early. He doubted he'd see any action on day one. He was expecting to spend most of it filling out paperwork and getting fitted for his turnout gear, not that either would take terribly long. What would take the most time was getting to know the people in it.

After checking his email for the tenth time and watering the one plant left over from his old life that he'd managed to keep alive, it was finally time to head out. He gave Carl an awkward hug and told him to be good for his aunt. They only hugged before Rick had a shift, and after five weeks without one, it was a little strange to start back up.

He grabbed his keys, wallet, over-night bag, and travel mug from the chair by the front door before taking a deep cleansing breath and unlocking the deadbolt. Before he could pull the heavy wooden door open, he heard Carl running down the hall.

"Hey dad?"

"Yeah, son?"

"Don't let 'em see you sweat," he smirked, their little code phrase for 'everything's going to be okay'. Or in this case, 'don't be nervous, everything's going to be okay'.

"Love ya." 

"Love you too, dad."

He exited their condo and locked the door behind him. The excited grin on his face stretched even wider and refused to be contained. Yeah, everything was going to be okay. 

He nodded politely to the gawking woman from two doors down who seemed incapable of keeping her eyes off his ass. It was flattering at first, but even after making a point to bring attention to the ring on his finger, she had made pass after trying pass at him. Sometimes in front of Carl which left them both cringing inwardly and outwardly. 

"Mornin', ma'am," he said politely, nodding his head as he passed by her door, hoping he could get by before she tried to stop him with idle questions about his day.

"Sleep well, handsome? And please, call me Milly," she replied, strategically stepping in front of his path. He supposed that her big brown eyes and pouty lips were meant to be flirty, but he laughed inwardly at the thought that she looked like a cartoon wolf with lipstick on that was imagining him as the sizzling steak she wanted to devour. That wasn't too far off.

"Fine, thanks. Would love to stay and chat but I gotta get ta work," he said, sidestepping her.

"Hope to see ya later then, sexy," she called after him as he walked away. 

No doubt, she was leering at his ass so he picked up the pace to the elevator. He got to his car and threw his junk inside before peeling out of the lot. _Definitely not ready to start dating,_ he thought.

He pulled his beat up jeep into the parking lot five minutes later and parked beside a scuffed up motorcycle. It looked like it'd recently been in a minor accident. He took another deep breath, grabbed his things, and exited the car. A slightly more muscular man with a buzzcut was the first to greet him before he even made it in the building. He looked familiar and Rick racked his brain trying to place him.

"Rick Grimes?" Shane asked even though he knew exactly who the man was, those curls were hard to forget. "Shane Walsh. We went to the academy together. Don't know if ya—"

"Thought you looked familiar!" Rick replied with relief. "Small word. How's it goin' man?" Rick wished he could take that question back. This house just suffered a loss and an injured firefighter, he _knows_ how it's going. The good thing was that it wouldn't be Shane's first impression of him. 

Before he could amend the question, Shane spoke, "Bad week, man. Sure ya heard 'bout that. Hell, that's why you're here. Other than that, can't complain. Le's go find ol' Merle for ya. One word of advice, don't be afraid ta stand your ground with him. Him and his brother both can be cocky little shits, but they've been doin' this a long time."

"That cause problems, siblings?" 

"Nah, nah. We got two sets actually. If anythin', it's a good thing. Long as they ain't pissed at the other, that is. Daryl, the younger Dixon, he's the injured one. Alright, follow me," Shane instructed as he finally led them inside.

The station looked like the one back home only a little bigger. The shiny rigs were parked in a neat row ready to go at a moment's notice just like everyone's turnout gear that was arranged nearby. They even had a pole to slide down, one thing his last house sadly lacked.

"Hey T-Dog? This is Rick Grimes," Shane said as he introduced the two men. They shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. "He'll be on Truck with us."

"I'm Glenn," said a voice coming from behind Rick. "....Rhee."

He turned around to greet the man properly, sticking out his hand, "Rick Grimes."

"He's our new probie. Not sure if he'll be on Truck or not, Cap hasn't said. Gonna have a meetin' in about an hour ta go over all that," Shane added.

Rick nodded and followed Shane into the house and out of the hanger, the other men trailing behind. There were offices littering the hall they walked down. It opened up to a big meeting area filled with instructional posters: CPR, stop, drop, and roll, and things like that. There were a few smaller rooms that broke off from there and a staircase leading to the second floor which most likely contained the living quarters.

"You two seen Merle?" Shane asked two women sitting on a couple of folding chairs along the wall. 

Both ladies looked up and right at Rick as they smiled widely. One of them whispered something to the other as they stood and rushed over. 

"Ya'll deaf or somethin'?" Shane teased.

"We've learned ta tune your loud ass out," one said to Shane. "Hi, I'm Michonne, EMT. You must be Daryl's replacement," she said holding out her a hand, a weary smile on her face like she wasn't supposed to be nice to him. And she wasn't, she was Daryl's best friend, and he specifically told her not to play nice.

"Rick Grimes, pleasure," he said turning to the other woman with an extended hand after shaking Michonne's.

"Sasha, also EMT. That's Bob, our third wheel," she said motioning to a man who just walked down the stairs, a larger man followed the first. "And my brother, Tyreese."

"Anybody seen Merle?" Shane asked after Rick's intro with the two men.

"Right here!" a voice rang out from behind the group that had gathered around Rick. "Ya blind, son?"

Rick's view of the captain was obstructed by Shane and T-Dog. When he peered around them, he saw a man, maybe ten or fifteen years older than him, with a military style haircut. Directly to his left stood another man who he could only assume was Daryl from the bruises on his cheek and arms and the way Merle was holding him up. 

To be honest, the younger man looked like hell, but that was to be expected for someone who was injured in the line of duty. They didn't look much alike. While Merle was hardened, Daryl had what you could call a babyface, even with the three day's worth of stubble. His dark hair was a bit longer and scruffier, and Rick had a feeling the bike he parked by was his.

"Anyone seen Daryl's replacement?" Merle asked. Daryl glared at his brother knowing that he said 'replacement' just to piss him off. It worked rather well.

"That would be me," Rick said as the crowd around him parted.

"Tyreese, help Darlina get ta his bunk," Merle said, wiggling out of from under Daryl's arm. 

"I don't need nobody's help," Daryl scoffed, piercing eyes painfully burrowing into Rick. 

"Suit yourself, stubborn ass....how long ya been doin' this Rick?" Merle asked, ignoring the curses Daryl was mouthing under his breath.

Everyone's eyes turned to him, but all he could feel was the hard scowl Daryl pinned him with. He didn't know if it was because of the pain he was in, if he didn't like people in general, or if he was afraid that Rick would replace him that caused such a look of bold indignation. He figured that if such things could killed, he'd surely be dead. 

"Since before my son was born," he said, hoping to appear human to the near growling man mostly. "'Bout fifteen years, one longer than Shane here," he said, patting the man in question on the back. He had no idea why he did that, he didn't know him that well, but judging by the twisted grimace Daryl shot his way, it was the wrong thing to do.

"Suppose that means ya know your way around a house then?" the Captain asked.

"I know some things," he chuckled nervously. 

Daryl had managed to make it to the stairs without tripping, cold, dark eyes never leaving Rick. Tyreese was spotting him from behind as he almost howled out in pain upon taking the first step. All eyes were on him, all sympathetic, even Rick's, as he slowly made his way to the second floor.

Merle brought their attention back to himself as he barked orders, "The grief counselor'll be here all day. Everyone has ta meet with him at least once ta get cleared so just get it over with. Meetin' in forty-five, check your stations 'fore that. Follow me, Rick."

Rick nodded and followed Merle to his office. The room was in various states of disarray. His desk was littered with papers that were scattered every which way, the trash was overflowing, and there were a few stray items of clothing and boots laying around. He didn't know if the mess was from the hectic workload, which he knew was going to be a lot higher than in his small town, or that the guy was just a slob. 

"Gotta son, huh?" Merle asked, breaking the silence.

"Yeah, fourteen goin' on forty," Rick answered with a smile.

"How's he like his ol' man bein' a firefighter?"

"It's all he knows...."

"Don't have any myself...that I know of," Merle chuckled to himself. Rick gave him a goodnatured smirk. "Okay, well Maggie brought down some paperwork for you ta fill out," he said, handing him a packet of papers. "You can get started on that. After the meeting, we'll get ya some gear. Gonna start ya out on Truck with Shane, T-Dog, and the probie. You okay with that?"

"Wherever ya need me. Just happy to be able to help out. I was starting to feel a little useless loungin' around my condo all day."

"I image that's how my baby brother's gonna feel in a few weeks. Hell, pro'lly already does. Maybe ya could talk ta him 'bout it," Merle smiled.

The smile set off warning bells in Rick's head. His eyes weren't right; there was a glint of mischief in them. He didn't have to know Daryl to know he wouldn't take the advice kindly, especially from someone he was trying to kill with his eyes not five minutes ago. But he couldn't say no.

"Yeah, no problem," he forced a smile back.

"Now that that's settled. I'll leave ya to cross your i's and stuff. Ya should be done by the meetin', then Shane'll show ya to your locker and bunk. Ya'll be ridin' along and observin' for the day, learnin' the ropes so ta speak. Central will call ya today or tomorrow ta get ya in for evals so ya can get your hands dirty. Should be fine, ya look like a sturdy guy."

"Whatever it takes," he said to Merle as the man turned to leave. He really hoped he wasn't coming off as a kiss ass. He was just overly excited to be back to work.

The rest of the day was relatively slow. They had two calls for minor accidents and one false alarm. Maggie, the dispatcher, put in his order for his turnout gear that he would have to pick up downtown tomorrow when he did evaluations so he could be cleared to work. He steered clear of the bunks were Daryl was passed out, but everyone did. 

The most exciting part of his day came when he got one frantic call from his sister when Carl was at Patrick's instead of at home. Before he hung up, he heard Carol laying into the teenager. He was happy for once that he wasn't the one giving his son a lecture.

The rest of the day was spent getting to know his shift-mates. Him and Glenn tended to stay close since it was the first day for both, even though most already knew Glenn. He liked the idea of taking the younger man under his wing. He also learned that Sasha and Bob were newly weds and Tyreese was part of their Engine company along with Dale, the oldest member of the house, Morgan, and Tara who, with the addition of Glenn, was bumped up from probie to just Tara. 

He deduced that Michonne and Daryl were pretty close because she was the one who checked on the injured man, and he'd occasionally get an odd look from her. Nothing like the way Daryl had glared at him; it was more like she was trying to figure him out, maybe doing reconnaissance for Daryl. He could understand if the guy was worried about losing his job.

By dinner, he figured out that T-Dog's name was Theodore Douglass, Shane seemed to be the resident loudmouth and jock, and Merle liked to push people's buttons for his own amusement. Even though he was the captain, he got quiet a few, 'Shut the fuck up, Merle''s thrown his way.

They ate chicken and dumplings for dinner in honor of Otis since it was his favorite food and watched a little tv. After that, he played a few rounds of poker with some of the guys until lights out. 

They got one call in the night for a small kitchen fire that was extinguished before they arrived. They weren't out too terribly long before returning to the house. The next thing he knew, it was time to head home. Luckily, Carl and Sophia went to the same school so Carol took care of getting him there. He knew she was going to be his saving grace for the next three months. All in all, it was a good first day on the job.

*****

In comparison, Daryl's day had been frustrating. 

Merle came to pick him up from the hospital and wanted to take him straight home. Daryl wasn't about to go back to his apartment, and they had a yelling match before ever leaving the parking lot. 

First of all, his apartment was ridiculously lonely which was why he spent most of his free time at the firehouse anyway. When he was younger, he used to love his solitude, but after years and years of living in a house with people bustling around all the time, he preferred the company of others. Not strangers, not his replacement, just his brothers. 

Only problem was that new guy—or 'Asshole' as he was unaffectionately known in Daryl's head—was supposed to be there. He'd suffer through knowing his enemy was in _his_ house for the day because his apartment was just too quiet to sleep in. If he was lucky, though, he wouldn't have to meet him till he was rested and ready to kick his ass to the curb.

Secondly, the firehouse was closer to the hospital and he really wanted to get to bed a soon as possible. His ribs were already achy from sitting in Merle's truck after only five minutes. He needed a bed, and the place he slept most comfortably was in his bunk at the house. Naturally, that's where he wanted to go. He also knew Michonne would take care of him. 

When he finally made it to his bunk, up the flight of stairs from hell, Tyreese helped ease him down into bed. He slept on and off for most of the day and everyone was kind enough to stay quiet so he could. Michonne would check on him every hour, it seemed, like a damn mother hen, and if she wasn't his best friend, he would have told her to fuck off.

He did tell her to when she brought up Asshole. 

Why the fuck would he want to hear about the bastard who was stealing his job? What he had wanted to do was to punch him in the face the second he saw him. If his ribs weren't broken and his body fatigued, he would've done so. _Rick_ and his ugly ass face. The fucker had the audacity to look at him with pity in his eyes. Who the hell had eyes that shade of blue anyway? It was unnatural! 

He hated the guy already and they hadn't officially been introduced.

Eventually, when Merle left for the day, he insisted on taking him home. He finally relented because he was too tired to argue by that point; his meds really made him groggy. He didn't want to leave his bike there, but Michonne had wisely hidden the keys saying he'd get them back when he was healed up enough to ride it. That meant he'd be at home alone without transportation for almost a week while he was under forced house arrest. Sometimes having a caring brother was a pain in the ass.

For the next few days, he woke up just as miserable as he'd been on day one. Michonne came over to stay with him until he was able to stand for longer than a minute without his ribs catching fire and exploding out of his chest. The upside was that he wouldn't have to see Asshole for two whole days. And in that, he could rejoice. He couldn't wait to send him packing.


	3. Don't Drop the Towel (Or Please Do)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two house fires; Daryl declares war and then loses round one; Rick reluctantly opens up about Lori.

Rick's second shift was similar to the first, light calls and time to get to know his fellow firefighters. He was slightly relieved that the Daryl guy wasn't around. He had a feeling they were going to have problems getting along, and by problems, he was sure the guy wanted to kick his ass.

He was glad that no one else seemed to have a problem with him. Everyone easily engaged him in conversation and made him feel welcome. He contributed that to the nature of the job. It was a lot easier to trust someone with your life if you knew them. That was a two-way street.

He and Shane got on pretty well. He wondered how they hadn't been anything more than acquaintances at the academy because they had a lot in common including many mutual friends. He and Glenn had a special bond being the two new guys. Michonne even took a shine to him, but he wasn't sure it wasn't just a ruse to feed info back to Daryl. 

What the hell was that guy's problem? Rick had never had an arch nemesis before. He wasn't exactly keen on having one now, especially when he was only trying to help their fellow brothers out. But if Daryl thought Rick was going to turn tail and run, he was going to be sadly mistake. Rick Grimes could be a stubborn jackass if push came to shove, and it'd take a small army to drag him away from doing right by the people of Firehouse Twelve.

*****

His third shift was much more exciting. They'd been on duty for about an hour when Maggie's voice boomed from every speaker with the alarm. There was a mad dash to their gear before they loaded up and made their way to a house fire in a heavy residential area.

In King's County, they'd rarely get fires that were anything other than grass or the wild kind. Sometimes they'd get the occasional meth lab explosion, but that was about it. Obviously, it'd been a while since his adrenaline had been pumping so hard. He wasn't exactly an adrenaline junky, but he couldn't deny that there was a certain comfort he got out of the thrill of rushing towards a call, sirens blaring, knowing that you might just save a life that day.

Shane was their chauffeur, and Rick could feel his stomach contents swooshing around with every cut corner. Never again would he eat cereal and milk before or during a shift. Him and Glenn were in the back holding on for dear life. The probie looked nervous but he calmed down when Rick shot him a reassuring nod. 

They pulled up to a two story house and went to work. The neighbor informed them that no one had been home which was a relief. That meant their concentration could be solely focused on putting the fire out. They dragged out the hoses, charged them up, and started taming the flames shooting out through the roof. 

It had been mostly confined to one side by the garage so it didn't take terribly long to put out. Shane's driving most likely saved a room or two. Before they could pack up and head back to the firehouse, Rick noticed something strange in the house across the street. Smoke had started to slowly seep out from somewhere around back.

"Hey guys?" he said, voice low and unsure. "Think we got another one...."

Shane turned toward him and followed his line of sight to the house. The flames were just starting to make themselves visible. "Oh fuck!!" he exclaimed as him and Rick took off to the other house. There were still cars in the driveway so it was likely that there were people inside. As soon as T-Dog and Glenn hit their heels, they went in to clear the house while Engine reset their equipment for the second house.

They busted down the door and started their search. The house had a relatively open floor plan so clearing the first floor was simple. The fire had originated in the kitchen, but the flames were too intense, raging full steam, to go in and check for survivors. They backtracked and went up the stairs to the second floor.

One by one, they cleared three rooms. The first was an empty guest room, the second a young boy's room—they made sure to check the closets and under the bed—and the last was a little girl's room. Rick was a little wary about not finding anyone inside because there were two cars in the driveway. Either they weren't home, they were dead in the kitchen, or they were in the last bedroom. 

Bingo.

"Holy shit!" Glenn shouted, stating what all of them were thinking after Shane kicked in the door to the master bedroom. 

There was a family of four tied together in the middle of the room. The smoke wasn't very thick yet, but it was clear that the family had tried to move to the door. With their restraints and the head wound that the father suffered—most likely at the hands of the assailant who tied them up—they were only halfway there.

Rick quickly and gently cut off their ropes with the axe he was carrying and each man grabbed a family member and rushed them downstairs and out the door. They were promptly turned over to the EMT's for treatment while Truck company started helping to extinguish the flames. 

It was fairly clear that one, or possibly both, of the fires were set intentionally. "Arson" had popped into Rick's head the second he saw the other house on fire, and he wasn't surprised that the arson team was on scene before they had finished with the second house. Rick just hoped that another house wouldn't go up anytime soon. He wasn't necessarily out of shape, but dousing flames in two consecutive houses in full gear was draining to say the least.

Merle and Daryl showed up not long after that. Rick and Shane were resting on the curb sucking down water when he felt daggers being hurled his way. He looked over to see kind, sweet Daryl pinning him with that stare again, arms crossed over his chest deviantly and probably to soothe his ribs. Rick quickly looked away.

He thought about asking Shane about him but decided against it. He wasn't one to make waves, and it was possible that Daryl just took a little longer to warm up to people, especially when he thought his job was on the line. They hadn't even been properly introduced so he tried not to take it personally. 

Merle eventually made his way over to them with Daryl slowly following behind. The younger brother went to sit on the back of the truck ten feet from them. It was clear his stamina was shot from meds and his injuries. Rick saw him glaring out of the corner of his eye but ignored him.

"Whose catch was the second house?" Merle asked.

"That was all Rick," Shane said with a friendly slap to his back.

"Was nothin'," he insisted. "I was just the first to look over. I probably wouldn't have noticed the smoke if my adrenaline wasn't pumpin' from the first house."

"I'm sure the family you saved wouldn't say it was nothin'," Morgan said from behind them.

He thought he heard Daryl huff, but he ignored it. That guy was really starting to get on his nerves. 

"Good catch. Arson found accelerant in the first house. After the family was tied up, I'd be shocked if they don't find the same thing in the second," Merle said. 

"Let's just hope we don't get another one somewhere down the block," Glenn said nervously as he sat down on the other side of Rick.

"Le's get our shit packed up so we can get back to the house. If we're lucky, the sick bastard had enough fun for one day," Merle instructed.

Rick and Shane downed the rest of their water and got back to work. Daryl was content to stay where he was, suspicious eyes trained on Rick as he moved around him to put everything back where it went. Merle eventually came over and dragged him back to his truck so that the two Dixon's could leave.

About an hour later, Rick and company were back at the house scrambling to the kitchen after missing lunch. Sasha, Bob, and Michonne had already set out sandwiches since they were the first ones back after transporting the family to a nearby hospital. 

Daryl and Michonne were stretched out on the couch, that same scowl focused on Rick as he ate at the table with some of the other guys. He had almost been convinced that that was how Daryl's face always looked until Michonne whispered something to him and he cracked a crocked smile, face softening just a tad. Obviously, the scowl was just for Rick then.

Rick and a few guys hit the showers after, washing off the sweat and soot of their morning. He finished quick and went to put on his clothes, the ones he had brought with him to change into, but they were gone. _Of course...,_ he thought to himself. He had been wondering if and when he was going to get some kind of hazing. 

"Anybody seen my clothes?" he called back to the guys still in the shower. He looked over to Glenn's towel expecting for his to be gone too, but they weren't. That's when he got the sneaking suspicion that Daryl was the culprit. And he couldn't help but think that this was going to be a long three months.

At least his towel was still there, surprisingly. He wrapped it around his waist and walked out of the shower area on his way to his locker. They didn't have locks because they weren't necessary, so he also wasn't surprised when his extra set of work clothes were gone too. His street clothes were still in his bag, but he knew that it would cause a scene if he walked out in them, so he thought he might as well put on a show if it was going to happen anyway.

He steeled his courage, readjusted and tightened his towel, and set out for the living area. His plan was to laugh it off as a joke, a bit of teasing, maybe a hazing prank. He could do that. He puffed out his chest a little, rolled his shoulders back, and walked out with as much dignity as he could muster in nothing but a small, white towel. 

Everyone was sitting around in the living area when he entered, and he was hit with all eyes on him as soon as he crossed the threshold, most accompanied by raised brows and a few smirks. Michonne leaned over and whispered something to Daryl whose eyes went from pleasantly relaxed to piercing contempt in a millisecond. 

And Rick knew there would be no truce. Not anytime soon anyway.

"Whoa there boy, this is a coed firehouse! Ya can't just go runnin' around in a towel now, I'm gonna get complaints," Merle said sternly with a frown that quickly turned into an amused grin.

"Ain't none of us girls gonna complain," Sasha protested with a long look up and down his scantily covered body. She received a nudge from Bob for her leering. He should've felt self-conscious, but he wasn't. He'd kept up with his workouts as best as he could and still had nicely defined abs. 

"Got that right," Maggie added from the door she just walked in. "Some of you boys might. It'd be hard not ta get jealous of that!" She motioned at him with a playful wink.

Michonne only whistled; Tara smiled amused.

"Someone stole my clothes," Rick grumbled. 

He was countered with a room full of belly laughs. In fact, he thought he saw Merle wiping tears from his eyes from laughing so hard. Of course, there was one other person besides him in the room not laughing, and it wasn't because of his broken ribs. Rick turned to the humorless man and glared at him; Daryl only glared back. They were in a face-off now, two stubborn bulls staring each other down. 

Merle picked up on it. Daryl was definitely the prankster of the house, but he also knew his brother didn't like the guy, the whole house probably knew. "Whaddya do with 'em, Daryl?" he asked, a hint of laughter still in his voice. 

"Don't know what you're talkin' about, Merle," he said feigning innocence, eyes not leaving Rick's and Rick's not leaving his.

"Now, now, li'l brother, ya had your fun. I can't have him walking around in a towel no matter how much the girls may want it."

"I swear ta god Merle, if ya make him get dressed, we're gonna have ta kill ya," Michonne said. "Or at the very least, take your hand!" That got Daryl's eyes moving as he turned to shoot her a look that was half thankful for her support to not give Rick his clothes back and half annoyed that she found his nemesis attractive. 

Rick considered it a win and turned away after Daryl broke eye contact. He didn't look back at him again.

"Come on now, Darlina. What if that arsonist fucker strikes again? We're gonna be a man down. Can't have that now."

"If that happens, Rick'll literally be caught with his pants down," Shane quipped. He couldn't help himself. "Just don't drop the towel!"

"Or please do!" Michonne snickered.

Rick tried to scowl at them both but his eyes weren't serious. "Laugh it up ya pervs. I have no problem goin' commando in my gear if I have ta." He really did, it would chaff like hell.

"Now that's dedication!" Glenn said, offering support. Rick couldn't help but notice how the younger man's eyes fell a little as he watched Maggie drooling over him. He was going to have to do something about that.

"Ain't that an image after my own heart?" Maggie teased. Or flirted, Rick was oblivious to women these days, especially to ones he'd just decided to hook his new friend up with. 

"You're wife's a lucky woman," Michonne said wistfully.

" _Was,_ " Rick corrected without thinking. He hadn't exactly wanted to talk about that, let alone admit it to a crowded room of people whom were still technically strangers to him while he was standing before them naked in a towel. 

"Divorced?"

"Widowed." 

He really regretted opening his damn mouth when the looks of pity set in, the jovial energy was instantaneously transformed into something sobering and sad. He'd gotten enough of that back home. But the ring on his finger would've brought questions eventually.

When the silence became too unbearable, he continued, he figured it best to get it out in the open all at once so he didn't have to repeat himself to every single one of them when they finally worked up the courage to ask. He decided to keep it short and simple, "Drunk driver a year and a half ago." They didn't need to know about the baby.

"Shit, man. Sorry ta hear that," Shane said. Rick was grateful someone spoke up, the silence was starting to piss him off.

One by one, eyes started traveling from Rick to Daryl. Everyone knew he was the one who took the man's clothes. Daryl tried to ignore them, though, steadying his resolve, because the fact that Rick was a widower didn't affect the fact that he wanted the man gone, out of _his_ house!

"What?" Daryl snapped when he realized that everyone's eyes but Rick's were now on him. He huffed and crossed his arms. "They're in the damn truck!" he finally hissed, "...happy?" he snarled to Merle. 

Without another word, Rick turned down the stairs to retrieve his clothes. He got dressed in the hanger trying to save off the awkward looks for as long as possible. He sat down on the back of the truck and tried not to get pulled into any bad headspace. He still had over half his shift left to work. 

Tyreese saved him before he was too far gone. "Mind if I sit?" he asked politely.

Rick gave him a soft smile and a nod.

"I lost my wife four years ago, my Karen," he said fondly. "I'm sure you've heard this before but it does get a little easier everyday. I was bad there for awhile, don't know what I would've done without Sasha."

"My sister lost her husband a year before Lor-my wife died. Family curse I suppose. She's been my rock, too. That and my son Carl.....Do you have any children?"

"No."

There was a brief moment of comfortable silence while both men reminisced on their lost loves and the women who carried them through it. "L-lori was seven months pregnant. Our d-dau....baby didn't make it."

Tyreese didn't say a thing as he lightly placed his hand on Rick's shoulder. Rick didn't know if it was because he couldn't think of anything to say or because he knew whatever he tried would ring hollow in his ears. Either way, he was grateful. Now, he had two friends in the house.

*****

Everyone's eyes were still on Daryl after Rick went to retrieve his clothes. He didn't feel an ounce of guilt. Wasn't his fault Michonne and her curiosity caused her to open her big mouth. Wasn't his fault the man was a widow...widower...a spider. The guy was a poisonous spider and Daryl had to squish him because he knew no one else would, not with the looks they were giving him.

"Stop fuckin' starin' at me, assholes! I didn't do nothin' wrong but play a prank on him like I've done ta every last one of ya!" he said defensively. That was absolutely true even though his motives were different this time.

"He's not stealing your job, Daryl," Dale reasoned, saying what everyone knew Daryl was thinking.

"The fuck he's not!" he protested as he stood up and turned toward the sleeping quarters. "Ya'll are supposed ta be my brothers....fuck all o' ya'll!" he yelled over his shoulder as he stormed off. He grimaced to himself as the movement sent a twinge of pain shooting through his ribs.

He hobbled over to his bunk and laid down. A week and the whole plan had already blown up in his face. He covered his eyes with his forearm and left out a hard sigh of defeat.

Asshole: 1

Daryl: 0

"Go away Michonne," he grunted upon hearing her footsteps closing in.

"Ya don't have to like the guy, but we do gotta work with him for the foreseeable future," she said softly as he sat down beside him.

" _You_ gotta work with him."

"It's only for three months, then they'll probably send him somewhere else when you come back." 

Michonne didn't believe that. She had a feeling Rick was there to stay, and so far, she couldn't find the downside. She actually liked the guy, and from the murmurs around the house, so did everyone else. Present company excluded. Daryl had been through a recent breakup and severe trauma; she figured that he wasn't thinking straight. He'd eventually come around. If nothing else, then in three months when he was reinstated and they found a way to keep Rick too.

"What if they don't let me back in? What if I don't pass my evals?" Daryl asked shakily.

"You will! You worry too damn much, Dixon. Need ya to hurry with those pills so I can take ya out drinkin'," she teased. "Then we'll get ya ready for your evals and you'll be back to work in no time."

Daryl scoffed. 

He knew it was an irrational thought to worry about failing out. He was always in the top percentiles when he had done evaluations in the passed, but the asshole had him doubting himself. And now he knew that everyone in the house liked him which only pissed him off more. Instead of him against Rick, it was him against Rick plus the rest of the house.

He couldn't run the guy off soon enough. The crafty son-of-a-bitch! How had he already turned his best friend against him, his brothers, his brother? He had a bad feeling that he underestimated the guy; Asshole was not going to make this easy for him, but he wasn't about to let him off the hook. Rick Grimes was in his crosshairs, and that was exactly where Daryl wanted him to stay.


	4. A Sugary Sweet Chocolate Frosted Donut with Rainbow Sprinkles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick tries and fails to befriend Daryl; Daryl wastes food.

It had been three weeks since Rick started at the firehouse. He fell back into the familiar routine easily as did Carl. Every third day, he'd go to work for his twenty-four hour shift and Carol would look after Carl. On his off days, Rick slipped into the roll as assistant to the apartment's handyman and stay-at-home dad. 

Today was the day Rick finally decided to have a talk with Daryl and maybe clear the air between them. The two were never properly introduced which felt strange, but they were more than familiar with each other's prickly scowls. Rick was surprised that he hadn't tried anything else since the towel incident, but he was hoping that a little chat might keep things from escalating even further. 

Daryl had spent most of the last two weeks in his bunk. His stamina was just starting to pick back up and the painful edge of his ribs had finally subsided to a dull ache. He was still in bed when Rick found him after lunch. Michonne usually brought him a sandwich everyday, but today Rick took the plate from her hands and gave her a nod. She studied him for a moment before letting go and giving him an understanding nod back.

"'Bout time," Daryl huffed, rolling over. "What took you so—" He was expecting Michonne, but when his eyes landed on Rick with his lunch in his hands, his eyes went dark. "Hey Asshole," he hissed.

"It's Rick," he corrected dryly.

"Same difference."

"I was, uh, hopin' we could talk," Rick said hesitantly, trying to sound as friendly a possible.

"Ain't got nothin' ta say to ya," Daryl replied, rolling back over, wincing to himself when his ribs pinched.

"Look, I know you don't like me, ya think I'm takin' your job, but I'm not. Just helpin' out our fellow brothers while you heal," Rick calmly stated. He was trying very hard not to raise his voice or let his temper get the better of him.

" _MY_ fellow brothers, they ain't yours!" Daryl spit back over his shoulder.

" _OUR_ fellow brothers," Rick argued. So much for not raising his voice. "When ya come back, they'll probably send me somewhere else. And I don't mind that, I'll go wherever they need me."

"Well, ain't you a gentleman," Daryl scoffed. 

"I know how you're feelin' and you—"

"You don't know a damn thing about how I'm feelin'. So take your shitty sandwich and get the hell out!" he howled.

"You think I'm replacing you," he continued, "But I wanna go on record right now and say that I'm not. That's not who I am and if you'd pull your stubborn head outta your ass long enough to get ta know me, you'd figure that out! Just like everyone else around here already has. And it's _YOUR_ shitty sandwich," Rick yelled, slamming the plate down on the table next to Daryl's bunk. 

He turned around and stomped out. Why was that guy so irritating? It was one thing to be hesitant about getting to know him. That, he understood. But Daryl was hostile to everything he did or said, and his icy stare was downright debilitating sometimes. He'd feel it on him all the time like sharp talons being dragged down his back. He was hyperaware of everything Daryl did like he was right inside Rick's head, under his skin, physically fraying his nerves.

Rick ran a hand through his hair in frustration as he entered the living area. Sighing heavily, he flopped down onto the couch. Michonne gave him a knowing look from her position leaning over the island in the kitchen and shrugged her shoulders. She knew he was trying and he appreciated the silent support.

A minute later, Daryl came storming in, a determined look of defiance on his face. He eyed Rick as he made his way to the kitchen. He picked up the trashcan—pointedly ignoring the screaming fury of his ribs from the weight—turned around to look at Rick, and tilted the plate until the sandwich slid off and into the garbage. Not once did he blink as he stared Rick down.

"I'm the one who made that for you, dumbass," Michonne muttered from beside Daryl. He shrugged her off and went about making another one for himself. 

Glenn sat down next to Rick and stole his attention from his and Daryl's dagger throwing contest. "Any plans for the weekend?" he asked.

"Thought I'd take my son to see a movie or something. He's been really good since I've started here, so I thought I'd treat him. You?" 

"Sadly, nothing," Glenn admitted.

"You're welcome ta join us. Don't think Carl would mind. You could, uh, ask Maggie if she'd like ta join us," Rick carefully added.

Glenn's eyes widened with both surprise and apprehension. Did Rick want him to invite Maggie for his sake or because he liked her too and was too afraid to ask her himself? He couldn't've hid the confused frown on his face if he tried.

"Thought it'd give ya an excuse to talk ta her, ask her out, instead of just stealing glances from afar," Rick explained upon noticing his distraught expression.

"That obvious?" Glenn asked shyly, relieved.

"Only 'cause I got your back," he smiled as he nudged Glenn's shoulder with his. "Want me ta ask her for ya? We can ask a few other people too if you'd like."

"Would it be awkward with just the three of us and your kid?"

"Probably....how 'bout Sasha, Tyreese and Bob? Shit....course everyone else is gonna feel left out. Might as well just invite everyone and see who can make it."

"Yeah," Glenn said quietly.

"Well, we can still do that. We'll just have ta find another way ta get you a date."

"Probie needs a date?" Shane interrupted. "For what, the prom?" he snickered.

Glenn frowned and looked away.

"It's nothin'. Hey, you wanna go to the movies this weekend?" Rick asked Shane.

"Ya askin' me on a date now, Grimes," he teased.

"Nah, you're much too ugly for my taste," Rick quipped back. "I was planning on taking my son to see one and thought I'd ask around.

Just then, Maggie's voice rang through the station announcing a call. Everyone sprung into action as they filed down the stairs towards the hanger. Rick spared one last glance at Daryl who was unsurprisingly trying to murder him with his eyes as he bit into his newly made sandwich. Unintentionally, Rick shot him a smug smirk. 

That smirk got even wider when Daryl flipped him off as he ran by. Rick wasn't a violent man, but he really wanted to punch that guy in the face. He understood that Daryl was probably frustrated that he had to stay behind when all his brothers were rushing out to risk their lives, but he didn't care, he flipped him off right back.

Rick was the last one down the stairs and to his turnout gear. After stepping into his boots, he rolled up his pants and threw on his jacket before pulling on his helmet. He climbed up into the rig after Glenn and they sped out the bay doors towards a raging fire.

They pulled up to a one-story house fully engulfed in flames. There was a car in the driveway and a hysterical neighbor yelling for help. Rick, Shane, Glenn, and T-Dog suited up as quickly as they could with their SCBA and tanks before heading inside for search and rescue. 

T-Dog busted down the door and they headed into a smoke filled hallway. It opened up into a decent sized living room that was clear of people. The four of them moved further down the hallway single file, smoke so thick that the family portraits that hung on the wall were obscured. The hallway broke off into another that Rick and Shane took while Glenn and T-Dog headed straight towards the back of the house. 

T-Dog had point and led Glenn towards the kitchen. Flames were shooting out of the door and they knew it was way too hot to enter. It was hard to see through the smoke and fire, but they couldn't make out anyone inside. It was most likely the point of origin, and they shared a brief look remembering the last fire they worked. They called to be safe but finally had to retreat when the fire started to spread around them. 

Opposite the kitchen was an empty family room that had a couch that was already burning next to a melting television. There were a few children's toys in one corner. The hallway ended at the door to the backyard. With nowhere else to look, they turned around and headed back to the hallway Shane and Rick went down to either offer help or exit when they came back.

Rick and Shane had already checked the first two bedrooms. They were both empty. The next door was to a bathroom in which they found a little dark haired girl. She was passed out in the tub from the smoke, curled up in the fetal position. Shane picked her up and carried her down the hall to T-Dog who took her outside to the EMT's. 

When he returned, him and Rick pushed down the hall to the last bedroom. There they found an unconscious woman on the bed. Rick picked her up while Shane swept the room for anyone else. When it was clear, they made their way back down the hallways and outside.

Bob was working on the little girl when they came out. She was awake and crying which Rick thought was a good sign. He gently laid the woman on the ground beside her and stepped back as Michonne and Sasha started treating her. Michonne had started CPR when he turned around to help with the hoses. 

It was a good twenty minutes later before they had extinguished all the embers. The father had come by at one point yelling as he begged to see his wife and daughter. Someone told him which hospital they were taken to and a neighbor offered to drive him. 

Rick was sure the girl was going to be okay. She was awake and alert at the scene. The door was closed to the bathroom she was in, so she wasn't as exposed to the smoke as her mother had been. He didn't know the mother's condition. She still wasn't breathing on her own when they put her in the rig. 

They did find out what had happened from the little girl who was around four or five years old. She had decided to make breakfast while her mother took a nap to surprise her. Before she knew what was going on, the stove caught fire and she ran to the bathroom to hide because she didn't want to get in trouble. The fire alarm wasn't in working order so the mother didn't wake up. 

Rick really hoped the mother pulled through. He couldn't imagine the guilt the little girl would harbor knowing she started the fire that took her mother. Even if it was an accident, it would be hard to get over. 

When they were done, they packed up their gear and hightailed it back to the house. When they arrived, Sasha informed them that they were able to wake up the mother by the time they got her to the hospital. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. They had all had the same thoughts Rick had about the little girl.

The rest of the afternoon was quiet. Rick thought that was mostly because Daryl wasn't around. He tried to take advantage of the reprieve from his judgmental gaze, but his mind kept circling back to where he could possibly be and what prank or scare tactic he would conjure up next as he sulked somewhere in his secret underground villain lair.

He could picture Daryl throwing darts at a picture of him taped to the wall as he laughed maniacally, chest heaving, his darkened blue eyes tinted red with evil fury. There would be beakers bubbling in the background and blueprints tacked to cork boards. And he'd be wearing a white lab coat and a crocked smile instead of the twisted scowl that made him look older than he really was.

"Hey, Asshole!" The villain interrupted his daydream, kicking his boot for dramatic effect.

"It's Rick," he corrected, looking up at Daryl who was towering over him as he sat on the couch.

"Same difference. You ass better not zone out like that on a call 'cause if somethin' happens ta one of _my_ brothers, I'm holdin' you responsible," he lectured, hands on his hips as he puffed out his chest to make himself look more intimidating.

"That won't happen," he growled back. He had really tried not to snap at the man whenever they 'spoke' but Daryl made that virtually impossible. He was a firefighter after all, not a damn saint. As long as their hostilities didn't effect the rest of the house, he'd give as good as he got.

"Pssh whatever....Merle said ta tell ya he's lookin' for ya. I'm only tellin' ya 'cause he threatened my bike. This don't make us friends." He turned to walk away but spun back around when Rick chuckled. "What's so damn funny?" he barked.

"The idea that you'd think something could make _us_ friends is hysterical," Rick explained. He might have also been picturing the younger man in a white lab coat with wild hair.

"Believe me, I. Don't."

"Finally!" Michonne snickered from behind Daryl. "Ya'll found somethin' ya can both agree on. That's a start."

Rick rose from the couch so he could go find Merle. "The start and the finish," he said, passing between them without looking at either. Before he was out of earshot, he heard Michonne asking Daryl how his doctor's appointment went. If it was all the same to them, his version of Daryl's afternoon was much more entertaining.

*****

Rick brought donuts for everyone on his next shift. He walked up the stairs to the kitchen and placed the box on the counter beside the coffee machine. He poured himself a cup and sat down next to Morgan at the island. The two talked about their sons, Duane was around the same age as Carl and they made plans to do something fun together with the four of them. 

They were deep into a conversation about paintball when Shane came in with Daryl lagging behind. "Mornin' gentlemen," Shane greeted them tiredly.

"Hey Morgan," Daryl said with a friendly smile. "Hey Asshole," he mumbled to Rick.

"Shane, Daryl," he said as chipper as he could to both of them just because he knew it'd piss his enemy combatant off.

The two newcomers poured them some coffee and reached excitedly for a donut. Rick was able to hide his victorious grin as Daryl took his first bite. He knew the other man would not have taken one if he knew Rick brought them. However, by the second bite, his mask had cracked. Intentionally.

"What the fuck's your problem?" Daryl growled through a mouthful of a sugary sweet chocolate frosted donut with rainbow sprinkles upon noticing Rick was smiling at him. Because that wasn't suspicious at all....

"Just glad everyone's enjoying the donuts I brought," Rick said, staring at him, challenging him to take another bite.

He didn't. He didn't even finish the one in his mouth. He, rather predictably, walked over to the trashcan, spit out the bite he had in his mouth, and threw the rest in the bin.

"Somethin' wrong with your donut, baby brother?" Merle snickered as he walked in. From Daryl's reaction, he knew Rick must've brought them in. "Thanks, Rick! We love donuts around here. Don't we Daryl? We's as bad as those li'l piggies. Oink!" he teased, slapping his brother on the shoulder, mindful of his fractured ribs.

"Usually, but that one tasted like asshole," he said with an unsurprising snarl towards Rick.

"Guess you would know," Rick quipped back.

Shane and Merle couldn't help but laugh. Morgan smirked but was able to hold back his. Rick wasn't sure what Daryl was going to say or do after that, but he was fairly confident he won the round. For a while, they were locked into another one of their classic stare downs.

Daryl had to use every bone in his body not to jump right over the island and strangle his nemesis or at the very least shove all the donuts he brought up his ass. His ribs were just not up to it yet and he knew it. He felt weak and inadequate about it, and worst of all, the goddamned Asshole outfoxed him again.

Asshole: 2

Daryl: 0

"Who brought the donuts?" Tara asked excitedly as she reached in the box and grabbed one. Sasha was right on her heels and took one for her and Bob.

"Rick's treat," Morgan answered with a pat on his back.

"Thanks Rick," they both said in unison.

Being the gentleman he was, he had to look away from Daryl—whose now strikingly familiar eyes were starting to bring him a strange sense of comfort—to greet them properly. "No problem ladies," he smiled. He just knew Daryl was celebrating in his head about winning their latest battle when he looked away. And he absolutely was. 

It was liberating, having a point to focus all his anger, hatred, and loathing onto—both for himself and for humanity—that he'd bottled up over the past year and a half. Daryl didn't necessarily deserve to be that point, but Rick couldn't help but think that some of it was is fault. He had given the younger man more than enough chances to turn their relationship around and his stubborn ass refused. If he wanted to be a prick, Rick would oblige. Maybe he just needed some point of focus, too. 

Or maybe he was just a dick.


	5. Just Some Demons Givin' Me Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl and Rick butt heads in the gym; Rick has a flashback; Daryl eavesdrops.

Daryl was looking forward to getting in a light workout for the first time in a month. Lifting weights always helped him think. Apparently, Asshole needed a little more of a push to get out the door. He was certain that his scowls, bad attitude, and name calling would've been enough to rattle the guy at least, but it wasn't. In fact, the opposite was happening.

Rick pushed back, scowled back, talked back, and even managed to get on everyone else's good side. The only possible explanation for this was that he made a pact with the devil. How was Daryl the only one who was able to see through his bullshit, see that he was poison to Firehouse Twelve?

But what could he do? He didn't want to go to jail so murder and bodily harm were out if the question. His only real plan was to antagonize Asshole with a bunch of little things to get him to break. Things like hair dye in his body wash, filling his boots with shaving cream, laxatives in his coffee, crumbs in his bed. Ants in his bed.

Dammit! Why didn't any of it work?

Walking into the workout room, he was greeted by Tara and Dale who were deep in conversation about who would look better in a bikini: Bob, Merle, or T-Dog. He was absolutely not interested in their answers so he immediately switched on his workout music and put his headphones in.

He had only been planning on working out his legs—some squats and maybe some lunges and calf raises—but he caught a glimpse in the mirror at his biceps and his vanity gave way to curls. He was feeling pretty good, having just popped an analgesic, and decided to do a few benchpresses as well.

He didn't want to push himself too hard because any little set back meant Rick would stick around longer than necessary. The first set went well, his ribs hurt mildly but nothing too serious. The second set winded him even though he had cut his usual weight in half.

But the third set was where it all went to hell.

He was on rep five of twelve when his arms started to waver. He could see the bar above his chest shaking as he worked against gravity to lift it. Six was even worse but he was halfway done and was too stubborn to stop. By eight, he was heaving, and just when his strength was about to give out and recrush his already crushed ribs....

His fucking 'white knight' swooped in and lifted the bar with ease.

"The fuck do ya want?" he growled at the upsidedown face of his 'favorite' asshole staring down at him. He refused to admit his weakness to his enemy.

"You shouldn't be doin' that without a spotter, especially with your ribs the way they are," Rick chided, or rather lectured.

"I don't need a damn babysitter," Daryl huffed, scowling to hide the twinge in his ribs when he sat up. _Great, we're all alone....,_ he thought, looking around the empty room.

"If ya change your mind, I won't mind spottin' ya for the next five reps." Rick moved around in front of him, white towel slung over his shoulder.

"I only had four ta go," Daryl countered.

"No, you were on seven," Rick corrected.

"I can count just fine! It was eight," he insisted.

"Seven," Rick said defiantly, head cocking to one side as his glare intensified. Gone was any concern or politeness he may have had a minute ago.

"Ya wanna be wrong so bad, I'll let ya. But it was eight."

"Seven, the last one didn't count."

"The fuck it didn't!" Daryl challenged. He knew it was stupid to argue over something so trivial, but damn, would that guy ever shut up?

"Are ya done or not? 'Cause ya ain't the only one in the house who needs to workout."

He was in fact done, but fuck if he wanted to admit it to him. There really was no other choice, though, his body couldn't take anymore weights today. He got to his feet and decided to get on the stationary bike for awhile to build up his stamina. Also because he didn't want to look helpless in front of his nemesis.

He decided not to put his headphones back in so he'd be ready to pick another fight if the opportunity presented itself. He laughed to himself when he noticed that Rick pressed thirty pounds less than he did before his injury. He couldn't wait to get healed to show him up. Of course, he frowned when Rick had forty pounds on his leg press weight.

And no, he was not admiring Rick's—Asshole's—strong legs. It was just an observation. He'd have to work on beating him at that too when he was healthy.

Glenn came in after that, and him and Rick took turns with their sets. Daryl couldn't hear their whispering, but he was sure they were talking about him.

They weren't.

"Ya ask her yet?" Rick asked Glenn while he spotted the younger man on his benchpresses. He shot a smug smile at Daryl who just hardened his usual scowl.

"I chickened out again....she's....she's just so—"

"Pretty?"

"Perfect!"

"Yeah, I remember the feelin'," Rick frowned.

"Hey, sorry man. If you don't wanna talk about it, I'll understand", Glenn told him after finishing his first set.

"Nah, I think it's good for me. And I'm totally comfortable with asking her if ya want me too," Rick offered.

"Do you think she'll think I'm a coward?"

"'Course not! I told ya already, I'm ninety-nine percent positive she likes ya. It won't matter who asked who what in ten years," Rick assured him.

"Okay, do it. Maybe I'll be fine once we get there."

"Alright, gonna go wash up before dinner," Rick said as he patted Glenn on the back. "Don't do anythin' stupid like benchpresses without a spotter," he said loudly, chuckling in Daryl's direction who snarled at him in response.

Rick left the room and went to the locker room to change back into his station clothes. After that, he went to the kitchen to refill his water bottle. Maggie was on break getting coffee and he decided to ask her out for Glenn. They had settled on ice skating. The plan was to invite her along with Rick, Glenn, and Carol, offering her 'Carl's' ticket after he conveniently tweaked his ankle. Rick didn't like to lie, but he saw this one as a good cause.

While Rick was subtly asking Maggie if she wanted to go out with Glenn, Daryl was complaining about him to Michonne as usual. He had left the workout room and headed straight to his spot next to her on the couch.

"That guy's an ass," Daryl whined.

"You ever gonna let this go?" Michonne moaned, rolling her eyes.

"He's over there hittin' on Mags when it's painfully obvious that Glenn likes her. Don't know why he looks up ta that douchebag. He's tryin' ta steal his girl! We don't do that ta brothers."

"Ya think he's hittin' on her? She doesn't seem ta be his type," she said, pursing her lips as she focused on their body language.

"Oh, yeah? What would _you_ know about his type?"

"Maggie's too sweet, he needs someone feisty, someone like...."

"Don't say it," Daryl groaned.

"Me!"

"Ya saw him half naked once and ya turn your back on your best friend? Way ta be loyal, Michie."

"Hey Shane? Does it look like Rick's askin' Mags out?" she asked a half asleep Shane on the other side of her as she elbowed him.

"Oomph....huh? Rick and Mags? Nah, man she ain't his type," Shane mumbled.

"And what the fuck would _you_ know about his type?" Daryl repeated to Shane with a little more contempt.

"Maggie's great, but he's like us, needs someone ta keep 'im on his toes. Wonder what his wife was like...." he trailed off.

Before Daryl could offer a rebuttal, the other two were up and running when a call came in. He was really getting tired of everyone leaving him behind. Him and Rick exchanged their ceremonial one finger salutes with each other as Rick jogged towards the exit. When did that become routine?

Daryl sighed and got up to look for Merle. This whole sidelined business was starting to get old.

*****

The crew raced towards a five-car pileup on the closest highway. There were reports of several injuries so everyone was getting prepared to help out the EMT's with whatever they needed. The backup was already pretty substantial since the highway had been completely blocked.

They squeezed by frozen cars on the shoulder as Shane inched the truck up to the scene. As soon as the tires stopped rolling, they were out the doors and rushing toward the vehicles. There were a few people sitting off to the side, a small group talking with some police officers—witnesses most likely—and two smashed cars and an suv that had people trapped inside or too injured to move.

Rick peered in the closest car and his heart stopped. Trapped in the passenger seat was an unconscious woman with a very prominent pregnant belly.

 **Flashback to Nineteen Months Ago**

_The firefighters of King's County's Station Three had just finished eating dinner. Rick had cleanup duty with another guy when the call came in that tore his world apart._

_"Two vehicle accident on route seven. All units respond."_

_They sprung into action, suiting up in their turnout gear. The rigs were pulling out less than sixty seconds later en route to the scene. Friday afternoons had the highest potential for accidents as everyone raced home for the weekend. Rick was preparing to jump in and help when the truck came to a halt._

_He was the last one to notice that it was his car mangled up in the middle of the road, the front end smash into oblivion. He didn't think for a second that the blue sedan Lori drove could be the same one he was staring right at._

_It wasn't until Frank and James were holding him back that he realized he was supposed to be fighting them, reacting, clawing his way out of their grip. Because, yes, that was his car. That was the blue four-door they bought when Lori got pregnant for the second time._

_His face went pale, his blood ran cold, the sound of his pulse in his ears drowning out any words they tried to tell him. He collapsed on the spot, four large hands still holding him back, grounding him as best as they could, as he watched through a haze of red and blue flashes._

_All he could think was_ Lori, Carl, Lori, Carl, Baby, Gone.

_He didn't feel the concrete cutting into his knees or the heat from the mid-summer sun searing his skin. He was numb. "LORI!!" he yelled till his throat was dry, hoarse, burning with the rage and fear that boiled inside of him._

_There were cops in the background pulling a man out of the rusted red truck that destroyed his family. He saw them slam the man on the ground, cuffs slapped on his wrists as they yanked him up only to throw him into the back of a squad car. And that son-of-a-bitch had the audacity to shed tears like _his_ life was the one that was over._

_"Carl!!" he screamed._

_"He's not in there. He's not with her, he's safe," said a voice he didn't have the mind to identify._

_The EMT's lifted the limp body of his wife out of the car and onto a stretcher, and for a moment, he had hope she'd make it, that the baby would make it. But then a blanket was draped over her body and they let him go._

**End Flashback** 

"Rick?" Shane yelled, shaking his shoulders. "Rick! Hey man, you alright? Rick?"

His voice sounded far away like Rick was in a tunnel and Shane was at the other end.

"I got him," Tyreese said. He led Rick off to the side and tried to bring him back from the near comatose state he was in. "Hey Rick, I know this is probably hard for you, but that's not her. That's Maryanne Jenkins, twenty-four, from Baltimore and she's eight months pregnant with a baby boy."

"Maryanne?" Rick asked, completely confused as he struggled to break free of the dark memories still haunting him.

Tyreese really had no idea what he was doing, he just knew he had to get through to Rick somehow. "Yeah, Maryanne. She was in an accident today, but she's going to be fine. I know that may be hard to accept."

"Nah, it's, yeah, Ma-Maryanne....Jenkins and she's gonna be fine?"

"Yeah, that's right."

"That's good. And the....baby?"

"Sasha said they'll both be fine. Their car got the least of the impact. Most of the injuries are minor so everyone should be walking away from this one," Tyreese assured him.

"Okay then, we should probably get back ta work, huh?" Rick suggested as his body shook uncontrollably.

"You can probably sit in the truck if you need to. T-Dog and Dale just finished cutting the last guy out of his car. It's mostly just cleanup from here on out."

"Nah, I-I'm good. Just got lost there for a minute," he said through deep cleansing breaths his therapist had taught him. "I was....we got the call when she, when Lori....I was workin', workin' it."

"That's rough, Rick." Tyreese squeezed his shoulder hard, but he hardly felt it through his thick yellow jacket.

"You okay man?" Glenn broke in.

"Just a little, she just....flashback," Rick muttered.

"The pregnant lady triggered a flashback," Tyreese explained while Rick nodded before trying to shake the stray images from his mind.

"You're wife was...." Glenn trailed off, not sure of whether he could speak the words that were supposed to come next.

"I'm fine. I'll be fine in a minute. Just needed a sec," Rick said, his voice slowly becoming more steady. "Le's get this cleaned up so people can get home to there families."

*****

When Rick got back to the house, he went straight to his bunk and crawled in. He was still shaken up, but the worst part was that he froze in the middle of a call. He was mad at himself for that, for freaking out, falling apart. Lori would've slapped him for still acting like that nineteen months later.

"Rick, you awake?" Sasha called from the doorway. He rolled over and smiled weakly at her. No doubt Tyreese told her about his wife, and everyone had seen his episode. "Just wanted to let you know that both mom and baby are doing fine and they'll probably be released tomorrow."

"Do you need anything?" Maggie asked from slightly behind her. He hadn't even noticed she was there.

"Not really, I don't think," he replied.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Not much ta say really," Rick said. He had talked about the accident more than he'd ever talked about anything else. Of course that was usually with the shrinks he was mandated to talk to for work or Carol and Tyreese. But damn those girls and their kind, puppy dog eyes made him feel...safe.

Sasha sat down next to him on the bunk, Maggie on the other side. "Cards on the table, we all like you, Rick. All of us," Sasha said.

"I'm only here for two more months. Already told myself not ta get attached to ya'll," he admitted.

"We're already attached to ya," Maggie smiled. "'Cept maybe Daryl," she teased.

"Ya don't say," he feigned surprise.

"Daryl will come around," Sasha said. "He's our brother and we know he's going through some stuff, but once he's back, he'll get it...and if not, you seem to be holding your own."

"I'll be gone by then," Rick reminded her.

"Oh hush now, you're our brother, too. I'm sure something will work out."

"I appreciate your support," Rick smirked. Before he could say anything more, he was surrounded by two sets of feminine arms, and he couldn't help but chuckle when he got a kiss on each cheek. Yeah, he was already attached.

"Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes," Tara called from the door. "Hey! How come I wasn't invited to this party?" she playfully pouted.

"It's a pity party. I didn't exactly send out invitations."

"It ain't a pity party, we were just worried about ya," Maggie corrected.

"I'm fine now. Just some demons givin' me trouble. I got 'em sorted. The call just hit a little close to home," he assured them. He sighed heavily and decided to just tell them about the baby. With the way they were looking at him, they weren't leaving the room without an explanation. "My wife, Lori, she was seven months pregnant when she was killed. Both died on impact. Couldn't live in that small town with her face everywhere anymore. Then, I come here and the big city won't let me move on either."

"It was just one call, Rick, that you're right, was too close to home, but when's the last time you had an episode like that?" asked Sasha.

Rick thought for a long moment. "I guess since right before we moved. Two months? Maybe three...."

He hadn't realized it had been that long. He was having panic attacks at least once a week before, but he was good at hiding them from everyone. The first and last time Carl found him curled up on the kitchen floor, a broken mess, was the minute he knew he had to get them out of there.

"I thought I was past that. What if they start up again?" He wasn't sure he wanted an answer as he twiddled his thumbs anxiously. He had been doing so well, why'd he think it would last?

"Rick, they won't. This was a one time thing due to circumstances outside of your control. The new environment has helped, hasn't it?" Sasha asked, her and Maggie's hands rubbing circles on his back.

"Yeah." It was true; it helped even more than he would've thought it could.

"Good! It's just goin' take time. My daddy still has bad days and momma's been dead for years now," Tara said, soothingly. "I know that's what everyone says, but there's bound to be some truth in it."

"And ya have people who'll help ya through it on those bad days like today....Ya got us," Maggie smiled, leaning her head on his shoulder.

Yeah, he was way too attached.

What was he going to do in two months when they let him go? He knew Daryl was going to throw a party, but he was slowing falling love with all these people. Hell, even Daryl had a place in his life, focusing his anger, the only one not looking at him with pity and excitement like he was a broken yet new toy.

And no, he was not about to admit that the man may've been helping with his grief. Giving him a reason to genuinely smile when he bested him at one of their little battles or giving him someone other than himself to take his frustration out on, someone to think about that wasn't Lori or Carl. Because the last thing he needed was to second guess the first thing, the first person, that had made him feel alive in over a year and a half.

He didn't dare look directly at it for fear it might all fall apart.

Meanwhile, under the bunk where Daryl had been trapped for the last hour—he may or may not have been snooping through Rick's things when the man came to lay down—he was not falling for Rick's 'poor widower' routine like the girls above him were. The last thing _he_ needed was to see his target as a human being with bright blue eyes that he most definitely was not finding it more and more difficult to look away from.

Daryl was on a mission. He didn't even feel guilty the next day when he called in an anonymous tip downtown that someone in House Twelve had had a breakdown on a call. He didn't feel guilty about it at all because Rick could've put his brothers and sisters in danger. He could've put himself in danger. But Daryl certainly wasn't thinking about that, not consciously anyway.

Although, he did feel like a piece of shit for it after, for turning him in. There was a lump in his stomach and it was bitter like betrayal. And that was far more disturbing than his lack of guilt.


	6. Revenge. Goddammit!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl gets a new nickname; Daryl gets revenge for said nickname; Rick leads a counterattack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think there may be a few insignificant original character deaths going forward. Really didn't intend for that to happen, but they are first responders and that sort of thing happens sometimes. Geez, this fic was supposed to be light and it's kinda angsty in some places. Whatevs, enjoy!

After the incident with the pregnant woman, Rick was ordered to attend a few counseling sessions with one of the department shrinks. He took it in strides because he'd been through it more than once before, and perhaps he was even a little flattered that someone at the house cared for him enough to call in the tip.

Of course, it could've been Daryl being an prick. 

"Hey Asshole, they say you're crazy yet? Or did ya put a spell on 'em too?" Daryl heckled from Merle's office when he saw Rick walk by.

It was definitely Daryl being an prick.

"Ya sayin' I'm enchantin'?" Rick smirked, popping his head in. He knew Daryl got pissed every time he smiled at him so he tried to do it often. Between scowls that is, because sometimes the guy was being too much of a dick for him to resist. He was almost two months through his three month stint and Daryl still hadn't let up.

"Witchdoctor more like it," he scoffed.

"Bes' watch yer mouth boy! He'll shrink yer head and yer brain's already small enough as it is," Merle cackled.

"Shut the hell up, Merle!"

"Ya good ta do some community outreach today, Rick?" Merle asked as he swiveled playfully in his chair. He looked just like a big kid. Sometimes Rick couldn't believe he was the Captain.

"Lookin' forward to it," Rick answered as he turned to leave. He really was after the situation with the young girl and her mother a few weeks back. Educating the public on fire safety was a big part of the job, and he liked getting opportunities to do just that.

He continued his trek to the hanger where he joined Shane, Glenn, and T-Dog in giving their truck a thorough cleaning. It was a chilly April day, so they made the probie do the hard parts, but as Shane said, 'What else where they there for?' After hazing Glenn a little by sending him on a wild goose chase for a sky hook that didn't exist, they finished up and went to the kitchen for lunch.

Rick made himself a sandwich and sat down in the only empty chair at the table. Unsurprisingly, that was next to Daryl. This was becoming more and more common, everyone forcing them together or close somehow. They were only trying to help since they had all become fond of Rick and were mostly optimistic that something would work out so he could stay, but Rick wasn't convinced that he'd get to. 

He hadn't given up on the possibility of the two of them mending their relationship that had been, up to that point, cold and hostile, but half of that was up to the other man. Either way, there was no guarantee that him and Daryl would ever be anything more than what they already were.

Even without outside interference, they seemed to be gravitating more and more towards one another every damn day, regardless of how much they fought not to; seeking each other out, unconsciously or otherwise, for some form of conflict to get their endorphins going, to start their day like a sick, twisted alternative to coffee. He couldn't say he minded.

"Hey Daryl," he said as he sat down. He really wasn't expecting the man to acknowledge him. Most of the time he'd only get a grunt or an eye roll when he addressed him. Honestly, the man was worse than Carl sometimes.

"Asshole...hey," he grunted a replied, his body going tense, but his tone not _too_ unfriendly. 

That was the extent of their conversation, and Rick was a-o-k with that because at least it wasn't a scowl. Not that he minded those either.

He really needed to come up with a good nickname for the man. He ruled out all the curse words because that would be too obvious. Then, he thought about something ironic like 'cutie' or 'gorgeous', but he thought that might be a little too strange. It really would piss him off though....

Maybe he should test some out.

An hour later, he found Daryl alone in Merle's office and decided to try out something silly. He wasn't exactly sure why he picked the word he used to start with. It didn't sound like anything he would ever say. And if it went sideways, Daryl's broken ribs or no, he'd be on the floor bruised and bloody. 

"Hey Sexy," Rick cooed, and as soon as he did, his mouth went bone dry. Lori was probably laughing at him from wherever she was because, not only had he never called her anything like that, he was now addressing a man, neigh his arch nemesis, with a potential nickname that sounded so fucking ridiculous to his ears that they were likely close to bleeding. He wondered which one of them would be the first to die of embarrassment.

"What the fuck you say?" Daryl snarled, a slightly confused yet horrified look on his face.

"What? Ya don't like it?" Rick asked with the biggest, cockiest grin on his face he could manage because one, he got a rise out of the man—wasn't that the whole point?—and two, it would've been a lot more awkward if Daryl hadn't realized he was trying to do just that.

"No, I don't fuckin' like it when assholes call me 'sexy'," he huffed, unable to meet Rick's eyes. 

Rick knew he had him. "How 'bout 'sugar'?" he asked, wiggling his eyes brows playfully.

"Fuck off!"

"C'mon babydoll, you have an affectionate pet name for me. Thought I could return the favor," Rick reasoned, voice going a little whiny to twist the knife. He really was having too much fun with this, watching Daryl squirm uncomfortably was worth every awkward syllable.

"What the hell is wrong with ya, man?" Daryl barked, eyes a little less blue as the whites became more prominent. Surely, Rick wasn't really thinking about calling him something like that? The guy had to be messing with him. Why couldn't he have gone with something like 'bastard'? Yeah, he knew it was his fault. He just hoped this was a joke that would blow over because no, he did not want Rick calling him 'babydoll'.

"I was gonna go with 'Asshole', but it was already taken."

"You two gettin' along?" Merle asked, quirking a brow with intrigue as he interrupted their exchange.

"Like oil and water," Daryl said dryly.

"Well then, I hate to break up the lovefest, but I told ya to help Engine wash their rig, boy. If yer gonna be hangin' around, might as well work," he smirked.

"I ain't on duty. Why don'cha get my replacement here ta do it," he said, eyes tightening and contracting from their previously shocked state as he glared at Rick.

"He already washed his rig fer the day. You, on the other hand, have been sittin' on yer ass since ya got here twelve years ago," laughed Merle, eyes overflowing with mirth.

"Dammit Merle! I've been doin' stuff. And my ribs are still sore," Daryl argued.

"Weren't ya sayin' how bored ya were at lunch?" Rick helpfully asked him.

"Is that so, baby brother?" Merle snickered.

"Ya sit next ta me again and I'll poison your food, Grimes," Daryl threatened. By poison he meant lace with laxatives because he wasn't about to go to jail for Rick fucking Grimes.

That was pretty much the moment that Rick decided to sit next to him any chance he got. And it was Merle who helped resolve the whole nickname issue.

"Get ta work or go home, Darlina," Merle instructed.

The younger Dixon got up from Merle's chair to storm out. He really didn't mind helping out around the house where he could; he was just pushing Merle's buttons. They were brothers, that's what they did. 

But that was the most inopportune moment Merle could've chosen to call him by the nickname he'd already used a hundred times around Rick, because this time, the man was on a mission to find him a humiliating nickname, and Daryl had a bad feeling that he just found his inspiration.

"See ya around...Darlin'," Rick singsonged.

_Shit!_

*****

At about four o'clock, Rick found himself, Tyreese, and Tara standing in a crowded meeting room looking down at a group full of girl scouts as they sat crosslegged on the rug. Their chaperons—interestingly, a few more than there usually were on field trips—sat behind them in folding chairs. 

They decided to let Tara take the lead for two reasons. One being that the group of young impressionable girls could probably benefit from hearing from a positive female role model, Sasha and Michonne also stayed close. And the second was simply because she had never led one before and asked for the opportunity. 

Tara stumbled in the beginning, her nerves getting the best of her, but she turned it around with the help of the other two. Like everyone else in the house, she knew how important it was to teach people about fire safety. She started with fire alarms, the most simple place to begin, before moving on to stop, drop, and roll and what to do when trapped in a fire.

"Even at home, it's smart to practice fire drills with your family like at school. Planning escape routes are important, and you should designate a place to meet up if you get separated. Anyone know why that is?" she asked.

A few little hands rose and she called on one to answer. "So you don't get lost?" 

"That's a good answer. Yes, because the last thing ya wanna do after your house catches fire is to get lost and separated from your people. If ya have a place to meet up later, you won't all be running around in a frenzy out in the wilderness wondering what happened to everyone else."

That reminded Rick to designate such a place for him and Carl and also him and his sister in case of an emergency.

After Tara's lovely presentation, Rick dressed up to explain their gear and Tyreese took the girls on a tour of the rigs. That was followed by a lite dinner with the two groups as everyone mingled. Not surprisingly, several of the mothers flocked to Rick, Shane, and Daryl.

Rick had somehow been backed into a wall by three of the mothers who were hovering around him. He smiled politely and engaged them in conversation, but he was very uncomfortable with that amount of attention. Even the whole bringing focus to his ring trick didn't work. It used to be chick repellent. Maybe they could smell the deception. 

"Hey, Darlin'," Rick smirked as Daryl walked by. Daryl turned around and glared at him, no doubt holding back a 'Fuck you' or 'Hey Asshole' that was filed away for later due to the three women standing inches away from entering Rick's personal space.

"Hi, Rick!" he replied with an exuberance that, for some reason, scared the shit out of the older man because when did Daryl learn his first name? And what the fuck was going to be his punishment for 'Darling'? If he hadn't known better, he would've thought that Daryl sensed his distress and threw him a lifeline, but that was impossible.

It was actually. Daryl was in a good mood for reasons Rick wouldn't discover for another eight hours or so.

He couldn't bring himself to care too much at the time—he would care later—since Daryl's excitement had the unintended side-effect of driving the vulture-like women back, most likely giving them the wrong impression. "He hates when I call 'im that at work," Rick smiled, and it wasn't even a lie.

Before the women could start asking about him and his pretend gay lover, the alarm sounded. The women and girl scouts were left in Merle and Daryl's capable hands while the rest of them sprung into action. Their guests waved from the curb as they drove away, and Rick let out a sigh of relief. 

He was starting to think that he'd never be attracted to or able to enjoy the company of women ever again. Lori was too perfect for any woman to ever compete with. He knew a lot of that was nostalgia, they had hard times too, but even the thought of being with a woman made his skin itch.

He knew he was going to marry Lori at a very young age. She was always around, their families were practically joined at the hip, and he was glad he never had to pursue her. Otherwise, they probably never would have married, _he_ probably never would have gotten married. Which would've been a shame because he loved being married.

He rarely, if ever, looked at other women. And quite frankly, he didn't really have the desire to. Maybe he was asexual. No, he loved sex way too much for that. Maybe his standards were just too high. He wasn't about to lower them now, though. Maybe he was just scared; he had only been with his wife. Maybe he should find a prostitute. No, definitely not.

Maybe he just needed more time. Or the right person.

"You okay, Rick?" Glenn asked a little wary. This was the first accident they would be working since Rick's near meltdown, so his concern was understandable.

"Yeah, just thinkin' about those women back at the firehouse," he replied.

"Whoa boy! Some of those milfs were smokin' hot!" Shane added. "I love my wife, but sometimes, I really miss my firebunny days," he said longingly.

Rick smiled and nodded, not having any sort of experience with bachelorhood. And not caring to.

"More for us," T-Dog said playfully. 

"Ya'll get any numbers?" Shane asked.

No one had time to answer as they pulled up to the scene. A jackknifed eighteen wheeler was blocking two lanes and had two smashed cars halfway underneath it. Engine company was already taking care of a burning suv that had been the cause of the accident. When it overheated and caught fire, the driver slammed on the breaks sending the truck driver swerving into the median.

Truck went to work freeing the trapped passengers in the vehicles under the semi. The first had two children, about ten and twelve, in the backseat. They were shaken up but didn't appear to have any major injuries. There was a teenaged girl in the passenger seat who died on impact, and a middle-aged man in the driver seat sobbing unconsolably as he begged for his deceased daughter to look at him.

That was damn near heartbreaking, but everyone kept it together as Shane and T-Dog cut the father out of the car. Glenn had helped Michonne get the children settled in the back of a police car while Rick assessed the second vehicle with Bob. 

The first thing he saw through the window was a carseat. Him and Bob both shared a look then let out a collective breath when the realized that it was empty. The woman driver was pinned and passed out in her seat. Bob checked her vitals and started an iv while they waited for the tools to extract her.

As she started to regain consciousness, Rick took her hand to comfort her. "Hey there, my names Rick. You were in an accident but we're here to help. Can ya tell me your name?"

"R-rachel," she stuttered.

"Nice ta meet ya, Rachel. This is my friend Bob."

"Hi, Rachel," Bob said with a reassuring smile. "We'll get you to the hospital real soon and they'll patch you up like new. Does that sound good?"

"Mhmmm," she slightly nodded. "M-my hus-husband...."

"The police will take care of contacting him and he'll meet us there, okay?"

"Mhmm."

"Alright, Rachel. My friends are ready to get ya outta there. It's going get a little noisy and maybe a bit scary, but everything is going to be fine. Bob and I will be right here, okay?" Rick calmly said.

"O-okay," she replied.

The two stepped back so Shane and T-Dog could start dismantling the car. They had the woman out and onto the waiting gurney within a few minutes. She and everyone else who needed to go to the hospital were whisked away and the cleanup crew went to work clearing the scene.

An hour later they were packed up and heading home. The rest of the evening went by like usual. They had a late snack, Shane and a few guys watched a hockey game while Rick helped Glenn plan his first official date with Maggie. Michonne and Daryl were on their usual spot on the couch, and for once the other man wasn't hurling daggers at him. That fact made him a little uneasy.

*****

Rick had been asleep for about an hour when the next alarm went off. They raced to an apartment complex where they doused a two unit blaze that luckily didn't get the chance to spread any further. Everyone was happy that there weren't any injuries after their previous call, and before Rick knew it, they were back at the house.

Rick was the last to hit the showers, a position he was soon grateful for. He really should have known by the consistency that something wasn't right about his shampoo. He would later blame it on his groggy state, having refused coffee from the building manager on their call.

When the first clump of wet curls came away with his fingers he was terrified. He thought he was dreaming or dying or had been exposed to some nasty chemicals. But then it dawned on him: Revenge. _GODDAMNIT!!_ He ran his head under the spray shivering as every new patch of hair slid down his body. He would've cried if he hadn't been berating himself so badly for falling for that shit! Instead, he started laughing hysterically.

"Rick?" Glenn said as he peeked around the corner at him. Nothing could've prepared the rookie for the sight he saw. Rick was wet and naked with bits of dark hair stuck randomly to his pale skin. He looked like he had lost a fight with a pair of sheers, and he might as well have. "What the fuck happened?!" he cried out with thinly veiled horror.

"Daryl Fuckin' Dixon happened!" was his reply. He really couldn't decided if he should be mad or impressed.

"Shit, man. He really has it out for you! Geez, what can I do?"

"I ain't afraid of him. It's just hair...Ya know if there are any scissors or clippers around here?"

"Yeah, Shane has some. Want me to get him?"

"Nah, I'm sure he won't mind. And the less people who look at me like that...," he said motioning to Glenn, "...the better."

"I'll go grab 'em."

"Thanks, and could ya stand watch?"

"Sure thing, Rick," he smiled genuinely.

Ten minutes later, Rick was admiring his new look in the mirror. It wasn't too bad; it'd grow back out soon enough. He had never been buzzed before so the feeling was odd, but he had to get it as short as possible so the smooth areas blended in with the rest. Goddammit, that sucked! There would be talk tomorrow. He could try to sneak out early, but he knew Merle wouldn't allow that.

He sighed and pushed away from the sink. At least most everyone was asleep. As long as they didn't get any calls, he'd only have to suffer the snickers on his way to his jeep. Carl was going to have a field day with it, though.

He was placing the clippers in Shane's locker when something shiny caught his eye. Scissors. He picked them up and worked them with a devilish glint in his eyes. If Daryl wanted to give him a makeover, it was only fair to return the favor. 

He inconspicuously put them under his shirt and went to crawl in bed. He swore he could hear the look of utter delight on Daryl's face even from three bunks away. He heard the snort at least. The expression was masked by darkness. Only thing left now was to wait him out.

After sharing sleeping quarters with everyone for awhile, Rick could distinguish between each individual's snore, their breathing patterns, and even their REM cycles. Being hyperaware of Daryl made him especially easy to read. When he was sure he was asleep deep enough, he slinked out of bed and over to his target.

He was hesitant to make the first cut, but after running a hand over his uneven scalp, he took a deep breath and cut off a good chunk. It was a lot easier after that. He made sure to cut different lengths, some as close to the roots as he could so Daryl would be forced to buzz his head too or risk strange looks from people. Other than that, he made it look as choppy and messy as he could which wasn't hard.

When he was satisfied with his handy work, he gave himself a nod of approval and went to stand. He turned around only to find Michonne's eyes on him, and he froze. There wasn't much she could do about anything now, he'd already finished, but she could turn on him, and he wasn't quite sure he would survive having two enemies in the house.

"He do that?" she whispered, pointing to his buzzed head. She didn't really have to ask, everyone would've been able to figure it out instantly.

"Yeah," he whispered back. 

What she did next surprised him. She took out her cellphone, leaned down close to the sleeping man, and took a selfie. When no one stirred from the flash, she motioned for him to leaned down on the other side while she snapped one of the three of them. They reviewed them and were somehow able to hold back their giggles. Then, she patted him on the back and went back to her bunk.

Rick was going to have a hard fucking time leaving these people. Daryl too. And he was finally okay with admitting that.


	7. Well, Shit!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl takes a timeout while Rick tries to figure it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got another kitchen fire here...I know, BIG surprise. Not my fault!! I blame the arsonist, whoever they are. Enjoy!

Daryl woke up to something tickling his nose. He opened his eyes and swatted Merle's meaty hands away from his face.

"Wake up sunshine!" Merle smiled wide. 

Daryl swallowed, Merle only called him that when he knew he'd been bested at something. "What the hell do ya want?"

"Was jus' wonderin' if ya wanted ta come see Rick's new hairdo. He don't look as good as Shane, but it ain't bad. Nice work, li'l brother," Merle smirked. It had been his idea to clean up Daryl's hair so he won't suspect anything until everyone saw him in the living area.

Daryl smiled proudly at himself and got up. He figured that everyone who had seen Rick most likely knew he was the one responsible. He stretched and got ready for his smirks and compliments, and hoped Rick would be too mortified to return for his next shift. What he wasn't expecting was to have the tables turned so completely.

He was so sure that it was about to be:

Asshole: 196

Daryl: 1

But instead it was:

Asshole: 197

Daryl: .5

_Goddammit! What are they laughing at?_

"Mornin' Darlin'," Rick purred before blowing over the top of his coffee mug. His hair was buzzed which meant Daryl's plan worked, but something wasn't right. Everyone was staring and chuckling at him _not_ Rick. 

"You should check yer texts, Darlina. Rick sent out something mighty funny to us all this mornin'," Merle teased.

His eyes hardened on Rick. What the hell did he do? He turned to get his phone, but Merle was holding it up for him. He snatched it away and pulled up his messages. He didn't have Rick's number, but someone must've programmed it in because it said, _New Message from Your Favorite Asshole,_ and he certainly hadn't done that.

Up popped a picture of Rick leaning over him, head shaved, scissors in hand, and what the hell? Was that Rick's hair all over the place? Whose....wait? His? _Shit! Fuck. Fuck! FUCK!!No! No. No no! NOOO!_

He ran out the room to the bathroom. Earthquaking curses filled the room, echoing off the tiles. He examined his head in the mirror, random cuts and lengths making his hair appear even more unruly than usual. How the hell had this happened? He was only getting Rick back for calling him names, calling him 'Darling' which he knew he was now stuck with. 'Course he did rat him out....

"You okay?" Michonne asked from beside him.

"Look what he did to me?" Daryl whined.

"Did ya see what ya did to him?"

"Not the point," he huffed, turning his head to the side to get a better glimpse at the huge chunk taken out of his hair right above his ear.

"Kinda is. You're not vain. It'll grow back, but maybe this is a sign you should stop being such an ass to him. He's only retaliating 'cause you push him to."

"That's not what's happenin'!" he insisted.

"You are so fixated on him that I bet you didn't even notice me in the picture."

He furrowed his brow and looked at her. He opened his phone, and sure enough, she was right. "Everything keeps back firing on me! What did I ever do to be replaced by that asshole? I've always worked hard, kept my nose clean, lived for the job, bled for it too. And they replace me like that," he said snapping his fingers. "With someone who everyone likes better than me, who is a, shit, a better person than me. Dammit, he's better at everythin, better friend, better prankster, better firefighter too, probably."

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself, dumbass. We all like you just fine. Even Rick, I'm sure. I think you've met your match in him; ya just ain't used to someone pushing back is what's happenin'. Ya can't really believe any of us would let him run you off, can ya?" she asked, stepping closer so she could give him a comforting hug. "You got less a month to go, and then you'll see that it ain't like that."

"What if it is?" he mumbled.

"It's not. Maybe you just need a little break from the house. When are your evals?"

"Three weeks," he replied.

"Why don'cha take a vacation or something? Go camping for awhile. That shit always clears your head. Then, you can come back, we'll get you ready for evals, and you'll be back to work."

She was probably right. He was going stir-crazy not being allowed on calls. He honestly didn't know how Merle did it all day, sitting around hoping everyone came back. And Rick just had him all kinds of messed up. His confidence was shot, he'd get jealous of Rick every time he talked to anyone, and paranoid that he was plotting against him, finding ways to turn his brothers and sisters against him.

Later that day, Michonne finally gave him back the keys to his bike. She followed him home and helped him pack for a two week getaway. He refused to call it a vacation since he was going alone. Michonne talked Dale into letting Daryl borrow his camper, and after their goodbyes, he set out to get his fucking head on straight. 

*****

Rick absolutely in no way missed Daryl on his next shift.

Rick mostly did not miss Daryl on the shift after that.

Rick did however spend them both bored out of his mind. He really had no idea how quickly timed passed when him and Daryl were taking turns trying to out wit the other. Or how strange it was to leave the house on a call without having someone to flip off. And maybe it was unnerving not to have those eyes on him all the time, like they were a security blanket, after getting so used to them.

By his third shift...yeah okay, so he missed the guy. There was nothing weird about that. Because what's a hero without their nemesis? They're just a regular Joe. He was just used to having a Hyde to his Jekyll, oil to his water, the Joker to his Batman, but he wasn't about to admit that to anyone. 

He liked having someone to exchange witty barbs with, someone who challenged him and pushed him out of his comfort zone. Deep down he knew Daryl wasn't a bad man. He was really hoping that if he as able to stay on somehow that they could find a way to be friends. Or not enemies, at least. 

Why the hell could he not stop thinking about the man? He wondered when he'd return so they could get back to trading insults and scowls. He wondered what he was doing, whether or not he was planning his latest caper against him, why the house felt so empty without him. 

Why was he so strangely hung up on Daryl?

"You okay, dad?" Carl asked as he walked into the living room. Rick was practically fused to the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table exactly like Carl had done two days ago that earned him a scolding. The irony was not lost on Carl. "That's not how we treat the furniture," he lectured, arms crossed, hip jetting out to one side. That was all Lori.

"Sorry," Rick said, rolling his eyes and dropping his feet in half parody of how Carl had responded to him. "Finish your homework, kiddo?"

"Yeah...Hey, I forgot to tell you, some kids got into a fight today. Me and Patrick broke it up," he shrugged as he sat down beside his father.

"What was it about?" Rick asked nudging him playfully with his shoulder. Him and Carl had been getting along almost too well since he went back to work. And while he wasn't thrilled about the idea of him putting himself in danger like that, he was proud that Carl tried to do the right thing.

"A girl, I think. What were you thinking about?" he asked curiously.

Rick was most definitely thinking about how not to think about Daryl, but he couldn't say that. "What's gonna happen when that guy comes back ta work." It wasn't exactly a lie.

"Daryl, right?"

"Yeah, Daryl," he replied wistfully. Why was he so damn preoccupied with Daryl? Absence makes the heart go crazy apparently. _Heart?_

"It's gonna work out. I know they'll find a way to keep you, and if not, then they're idiots."

"I hope so 'cause I really like it there. I like everyone there." _Everyone._

"I can tell."

"Ya wanna hang out with Morgan and Duane this weekend?" Rick asked. He needed a damn distraction was all.

"Sure...we can go play basketball at the park again," Carl suggested.

"I'll ask Morgan tomorrow. We can do fathers versus sons."

"Losers buy pizza?"

"You're on!" Rick snarled at him playfully.

"I'm really glad we moved here," Carl said, instantly changing the mood to something a little more serious. "I didn't realize how hard it was on you back home until we did and you started smiling again. And I know you won't ever forget about mom, but it's good that we're both starting to move on...or forward. She would've wanted that, I think."

Rick swallowed down the broken sobs threatening to pour out of him as he wrapped his arms around his son. "She would've," he agreed. They sat in silence like that for a few minutes, Carl surprisingly letting his father hold him, comforting him, both them.

"And if you want to start dating...I'll try to be okay with it," Carl broke the silence and the hug with a grimace at his own words.

"I don't think I'm quite there yet. Might never be," he honestly answered. He didn't really have any desire to. For the first time in over a year and a half, he was content with his life, and he was happy not to rock the boat about it. Besides, he had his hands full with the whole Daryl situation.

"Well, can I start dating?" 

"Excuse me?" Rick chuckled. Carl rolled his eyes. "Your mom told ya not till you're thirty! Ya got sixteen years to go," he teased. "Why? Ya have anyone in mind?"

Carl blush and he took that as a yes.

"What's her name?" Rick grinned.

"Doesn't matter, she's a senior. Too old for me," he replied. 

"Need me ta tell ya about all the other fish in the sea, son?"

"No, dad," he rolled his eyes again. "She's the TA in me and Sophia's geometry class."

"Sounds smart," Rick smirked.

"Really smart. And, uh, I think her dad's the fire chief."

Rick looked at him with intrigue. "Is that right?"

"That's what Patrick said."

"Guess you inherited your dad's excellent taste. Alright, time for bed," Rick said as he rose from the couch. 

Carl followed him down the hall and they said their goodnight's as they split off into their rooms. Rick flopped down on his bed with a huff and let out a frustrating sigh because for the first time in two and a half months, he really wasn't looking forward to going to work in the morning.

*****

"Rick!" Glenn yelled out from behind him as they reached the top of the stairs. Truck company had just finished sweeping the bottom floor of a burning two story Colonial. The fire had started in the back of the house towards what was most likely the kitchen and had now engulfed the living room as it spread upward and outward.

"It's too hot, man. We gotta go!" Shane yelled to him from behind Glenn.

Rick couldn't, though. He knew there were people in the house, and he had a bad feeling that they were tied up like the family they found two months ago on the double arson call. He knew it, he just fucking knew it. He didn't know how, but he felt it in his gut. 

"Rick! Come on, man! Don't be stupid here!"

The smoke was almost blinding, but he stayed low and crept forward to the furthest bedroom. If this was the same guy, the same MO, their arsonist, that's where the family would be. The door was locked and he kicked it in. A wall of thick, black smoke smashed into them immediately. This was a bad fucking idea!

He pushed in with Glenn and Shane reluctantly on his heels—T-Dog waited at the staircase—and ran straight for the dark lump in the middle of the room, pulse skyrocketing and drumming a heavy cadence in his ears. Three people were slumped back to back to back in a triangle, arms bound together in the center. 

And holy hell, one was on fire!

Glenn ran around and put the man's pant leg out as fast as he could while Rick quickly cut through the ropes. Shane grabbed the first person that was free and drag her out of the door and down the stairs. Glenn picked up the other, a teenaged girl, and Rick pulled out the last, the father. 

Then, they were making their escape.

T-Dog was there to help him get the father down the stairs before they rushed out the door. Bob took the girl and starting working on her, CPR and then oxygen when she started to breath on her own. The mother was loaded into the ambulance and taken away followed by the girl in another. The father was pronounced dead at the scene.

Most of the house was charred by the time they put out the fire. The arson team was in route after Dale called in their suspicions, and Merle pulled in just as they were finishing up. After the adrenaline wore off, Rick was left to bathe in his anger. Losing people was the worst part of the job, knowing you couldn't save everyone no matter how hard you tried; it was sobering.

He'd lost people before, lives snuffed out as they slipped through his fingers. He understood that they couldn't save them all and that sometimes luck just wasn't on their side. That didn't mean it was easy to accept. It had happened before many times, at his old house and even in the ten weeks since he'd been in Firehouse Twelve. 

But this time...he didn't have those sea-blue eyes to distract him, to calm him, didn't have anyone to take out those frustrations on, no one to yell at or flip off or curse out, no one to lie to and tell that he hated them. And goddammit, he missed that! He needed that, needed Dar—

"Is it our guy?" Merle asked as he strolled up to the back of the truck that T-Dog and Rick were perched upon sucking down water.

"I think so," Rick answered shakily. He just about knew so after seeing the family tied up. He didn't want to know, didn't want to think about it so he didn't. Instead, he thought of Lori; of flowing dark hair, porcelain skin, light brown eyes, the slight curve of her hips. 

She was always his rock, always giving him something positive to focus on. But she was gone now and those positives didn't feel like enough to chase away the negatives that were pooling under his skin like knives, digging in deep and twisting to let in the darkness that he had been running from for almost two years. 

Daryl had chased them away. Somehow. He changed Rick's point of focus, distracted him. Or maybe he just drew him out of the pit he had thrown himself into, gave him a reason and a means to claw his way out of it, to break the surface so he could breath again, could see again. 

He could see. He saw Daryl, saw narrow blue eyes and pursed lips, scowls and frowns, a smile or two when he didn't know Rick was looking. He saw his formerly shaggy mop of hair, scarred, tan skin, the curve of his biceps pouring out of cutoff sleeves, the near-weightless bounce in his step— _What the fuck?_

"Christ, the last thing we need is a damn arsonist runnin' around in our sector," Merle howled.

Rick ran his hands over his sweat-soaked buzzcut. "When's Daryl comin' back?" his lips asked without much input from his brain. It was a valid question either way. His three month 'tour' would be up in less than three weeks, he deserved to know his fate.

"Haven't heard a peep from yer li'l darlin' since he left," Merle chuckled. "Ya miss 'im or ya just worrying about gettin' kicked ta the curb like he's been doin' since ya showed up?"

"Maybe both," he admitted softly.

"Can't help the former, but I'm still workin' on the rest. Ya just leave it ta yer ol' pal Merle. I got sumpin up my sleeve," he said with a wink as he turned to go check in with the arson team. 

Rick sighed. He wasn't going to get his hopes up.

"Really think it's the same guy?" T-Dog asked.

"Don't you?" Rick asked back.

"Yeah, I do," he reluctantly agreed.

"Talking about our arsonist?" Tyreese asked as he came up to join them.

"He's more than an arsonist now...," Shane added bitterly as he walked by to put away some tools.

The conversation died after that. No one wanted to think about it like that, or about getting another back to back fire like the bastard set the last time. It didn't stop them from keeping their eyes peeled for smoke in the surrounding houses. They were luckier than last time and pulled away without another house going up in flames.

"Hey, Rick? I just wanted ta let ya know that you made the right call in there," Shane said on the drive back to the house. "I know we gave up, but ya didn't. Ya kept pushin' and hopefully that little girl and her mom'll be able ta thank ya for it."

"Had a hunch it was our guy. Figured they were tied up in the back bedroom like last time. It still wasn't right of me ta put ya'll in danger like that. I could've been wrong and gotten us all killed. 'M sorry 'bout that," he apologized.

"You saved them Rick! Don't be sorry for that," Glenn said.

"I'm not sorry for that. I'm sorry for nearly riskin' your lives for what could've been a wild goose chase."

"Every call has the potential to be a wild goose chase. We do the best we can, and today that paid off," Shane assured him.

"Yeah, I supposed that's true," he said, turning to look out the window. The sun was setting in the distance painting the fading blue sky in oranges and pinks. It should've been beautiful, but the day pretty much ruined any sentimentality he might have had. All he could think about was the empty firehouse they were going back to.

Rick wouldn't have anyone scowling at him when he walked in the door. He wouldn't have to double check his shampoo before he rubbed it on his head, and not just because he didn't have any hair to wash now. There would be no one to tell him, "Nite, Asshole," before he went to bed or say "Hey, Asshole," when he woke up.

And dammit he missed that, all of it. He missed Daryl, prickly demeanor and all, prickly demeanor especially.

Well, shit! 

Was he pining for his arch nemesis? 

And when exactly had Daryl become his saving grace?


	8. Confused Daryl is Confused

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl's back, but almost wishes he wasn't.

Daryl sat on the bank of a river bend that he'd called home for the past two weeks. His getaway was running a little long, but once he got used to the solitude, he was glad Michonne forced him into it. He slept out under the stars, ate rabbit and squirrel meat that he'd trapped and hunted, and tried his best not to think about what he'd eventually be heading back to.

Maybe he had been getting a little ahead of himself with the whole Rick thing. Him and Merle had been a team since his birth, and there was no way he'd let him get transferred to another house without a fight. He decided to let the whole Rick thing settle down, get his shit together for evals, then wave as he watched the man walk out of his life. And he wouldn't even be sad about it. 

Probably.

And maybe with his new found freedom, he'd have time to find a new girlfriend—maybe one not just interested in his uniform—because he was starting to get a little lonely. But no one needed to know that. Tyreese, Merle, and T-Dog seemed to be happily single. He should probably just be that for awhile. 

He'd been so busy watching Rick the past few months that he hadn't realized how long it had been since he even noticed a woman. There was a hot blonde at the diner down the river that he'd eaten at a few times. He was pretty sure she was interested, but for some reason, he wasn't, and he didn't know if that was supposed to bother him or not.

He tried to tell himself that he just wasn't over Amy, but that was a flat out lie. He'd been over her for more than a year. She was a rebound that went on for far too long anyway. Then, he'd think about Tyreese and, ugh, Rick losing their wives and he didn't really want to bother. He would be forty in a few years or so, then him and Michonne could invoke their 'if we're still single by then' friendship clause and be done with it.

The reason why he was still thinking about relationships on his way back to the city was lost on him, but he figured that it was just another way the universe was using to fuck with him. That was probably why he wasn't nearly as pissed as he should've been when he walked into Merle's house to find his unofficial a-couple-of-years-from-now fiancé banging his brother.

"You're sleepin' with Merle?" A very shocked Daryl asked an equally shocked to see him Michonne.

Michonne looked down at Merle as she lay buck naked on top of him on the couch before looking back up at Daryl blankly.

"Hello? Answer my damn question!" Not that it needed an answer, it was kind of obvious what was going on.

"It just happened, Dare! Didn't plan it, wasn't looking for it, just woke up one morning in his bed and it wasn't half bad," she mumbled, wrapping herself in a blanket and scrambling for her clothes that were scattered around Merle's living room.

"Lighten up, Darlina. Don't be hatin' on our beautiful love and our equally beautiful, yet dirty sex," Merle salaciously said.

"Oh! God! Dammit! Now I need some goddamned ear bleach ta go with the stuff for my eyes!! What the fuck, Michonne?!"

"Ya know how he's always callin' me his Nubian Queen...," she replied.

"Yeah, 'cause he's a racist prick."

"Am not!" Merle interjected. "Just ain't as creative as you and Rick with yer nicknames is all," he teased.

"I think I'm actually gonna die of shock," Daryl yelled as he ran out of the house, slamming the door hard. He wasn't mad exactly, just confused. Really fucking confused!

After his solitude, he wanted to be around his friends, brothers, brother, for awhile, but his first two choices were now out! If Michonne and Merle were 'busy', his next person to go to would be Shane. But ever since the breakup with Amy, he'd been hesitant to be around Andrea. Third was Tyreese, so without thinking much, he headed over to his house. Bob and Sasha rented Tyreese's basement apartment so he figured they would be there, too. Three birds, one stone.

However, for the second time that night, he was not prepared for what he walked into. He knocked on Ty's door and of course, who else but Rick fucking Grimes would greet him. He could've swore that the man's crystal eyes lit up as soon as he answered it and saw who it was, but he was probably just seeing things. It had been a crazy night so far.

"Well hey there, Darlin'. Sure have miss ya," Rick cooed.

Daryl could only blink because for a split second, he thought that his arch enemy actually sounded sincere. But that couldn't be right. "Can't say the same for you, Asshole. Where's Tyreese?" he said, pushing passed him.

"Everybody's outside. C'mon, I'll get ya a beer," Rick said.

"I can get my own beer," he hissed. Some much for letting the Rick thing settle....

"Daryl, we're gonna be working together so we're gonna have ta figure out a way ta trust each other. Now, I know we didn't get off ta the best start and I'll own some of that, but I need ta know that if we go runnin' into a burnin' building, that I can trust ya ta get me out," Rick explained.

"We ain't gonna be doin' that so it don't matter," Daryl sighed, already tired of this conversation.

"Merle didn't tell ya?" Rick asked, brow wrinkled, hand ghosting over his still ridiculously short hair.

"Tell me what? 'Bout Michonne?"

"What about Michonne?"

"Did ya know? Did he tell _you_ that they were sleepin' together? Am I the only one who didn't know?" Daryl questioned.

"Merle and Michonne? Fuckin' hell! Did not see that comin'," Rick said, shaking his head in surprise.

"Fuck! Then what the hell are ya talkin' about?"

"That I'm stayin'," Rick grinned smugly.

Daryl wasn't exactly sure why he did what he did next. That's not entirely true, he'd been wanting to do it for awhile. But he wasn't sure which bit pushed him over the edge: Rick's cocky smile, that his hair still looked better than his, that he was pissed at Merle, that all his fears were coming true....

Yep, that last one was it, everyone had lied to him. They all said Rick wouldn't replace him, yet here he was...replacing him. Rick was staying in the house and he was going to be shipped off to some other damn house or stuck on some other shift while Asshole stole his life.

He didn't even realize he was punching him, his eyes had pretty much glazed over, until he heard an unfamiliar voice yelling something like, "DAD!" No, it was definitely 'dad'. Then he felt small, yet feisty hands whacking him in the stomach. That was the moment he came back into himself only to find a fairly blooded Rick Grimes pulling a lanky teenager away from him as a crowd of onlookers gasped. 

Tyreese starting pushing him away towards the door while Sasha fussed over Rick. She yelled for Bob to bring an icepack and some towels and gauze to stop the bleeding. It was just a busted lip and a rapidly swelling eye. Maybe a bloodied nose.

All of a sudden, Daryl's knuckles ached and his stomach was tender, but those were the only things that hurt. Had Rick not landed a punch? Had he, wait...had he even thrown one? The other man looked like hell, but there was no way he would've had that much of an advantage over someone like Rick to come away totally unscathed.

"Why the fuck were you punching my dad?" the little one was raging as Rick held him back. 

"Carl!" Rick said in a scolding parental tone that even had Daryl flinching.

"But dad he—"

"No, it was my fault. I provoked him, son," he said calmly, stretching out his jaw as he pressed an icepack to it.

"What'd you say to him, Rick?" Tyreese asked, not taking his eyes off Daryl.

"Told 'im the good news...except I might've left out the Dale part," he chuckled humorlessly with a wince. "That was were I went wrong."

"Why didn't ya hit me back?" asked a bewildered Daryl as he ran his bloody hands over his way too short hair. "What the fuck, man?"

"'Cause my son was ten feet away. He didn't need ta see me kickin' your ass." That was meant to be a joke but no one laughed. 

Rick didn't know why he didn't fight back. He probably would've resplit Daryl's ribs if he had. Instead, he curled in on himself, giving Daryl an outlet for the wrath he knew the man had been carrying towards him. Worst part was it made him look like a damn pussy in front of his kid. No, the worst part was it made him feel alive. Maybe he was turning into a masochist. Or maybe he just knew that's what Daryl needed.

"WHY?" Daryl yelled. "Ya think I'm weak, can't handle it? That ya could break me or something? 'Cause I ain't weak!"

"Nah, Daryl...it's 'cause you're my brother...even if ya hate me."

" _We_ ain't brothers," he snarled.

"Dale's retirin'," Sasha interjected. "Rick's gettin' his spot...so yeah, you're brothers."

The room was deadly quiet for a good few minutes. Daryl was so very confused because he just beat up a man who not only refused to hit him back but also called him his brother, who was going to be his brother. Daryl was the asshole here. He'd known it the whole time, but now it was blatantly obvious and staring him right in the fucking face.

So...he ran.

He took Dale's camper that he hadn't returned yet and camped out in a RV park nearby. Everyone tried texting him and calling him, but he eventually stop charging his phone. He just needed some more time alone to think. He currently hated himself a little, and he was even more scared now that they'd be working together than he was when he thought one of them would be leaving. 

Where they supposed to be friends now? Would Rick even want to be after he was such a major dickhead? Could anything be salvaged after he beat the shit out of him? No, they could never be friends after he beat him up in front of his son. Rick didn't need anymore anyway, he stole all of his. Or rather, Daryl's own hatred drove them away.

He felt so lost. He was so fucked! And he had no one to blame but himself.

*****

Daryl woke up early on the day of his evals. He didn't sleep much thanks to his nerves, but he was also still upset about everything that had happened in the last few months. He had decided to let the chips fall where they may and man the fuck up. He was going to pass his evals, get back to his house, and see what happened. Worse case scenario: he transfers somewhere else. Firehouse Twelve wasn't really his anymore, it was Rick's. 

And maybe, just maybe, he could be okay with that.

No! No, he definitely could not.

When he pulled into the parking lot downtown, Merle and Michonne were waiting for him. They walked towards him a little too awkwardly apart. He just rolled his eyes and headed to the door. He was going to have get a physical, a psych eval, and due a few drills to make sure he was healed enough to perform his duties. 

"Hey, ya every gonna talk ta us again, baby brother?" Merle asked, a little sadness in his voice.

"Dammit, Merle! I can't do this right now, okay!" he snapped back.

"We know yer mad at us, but we—" Michonne tried to explain.

"I ain't mad, just surprised," he sighed. "I just needed some more time. I sorted my shit out and I'm fine. Now, is not the time."

"Okay then, le's go get ya reinstated," Merle said, slapping him on the back. 

The first thing they made him do was piss in a cup. Easy enough. Next, he was put into a small white room where he had to put on a thin paper gown while he waited for the doctor to check him over. He'd seen enough doctors lately, but okay. After that, it was off to the shrink where he blah, blah, blahed his way through the thirty minute session. 

Torture. 

But then, it was on to the fun part: the drills. 

They were set up like an obstacle course and he was to go from one right into the next while someone followed him around with a stopwatch and a clipboard timing his speed and making notes of his faults or things that needed to be improved. He had done the whole thing a million times before, but this particular run was more important than all the rest had been combined. And he was nervous.

He got decked out in his gear. Yellow wasn't exactly his color but it kept him safe, so that was enough. Boots, pants, jacket, helmet, SCBA, air tank, the whole nine. It was heavy and hot, but it felt good to be back in uniform. 

First, he had to drag a charged hose ninety feet. Easy enough. Then, he did a forced entry simulation using a twelve pound sledgehammer. His arms where shaky after, but he figured that was from the force of the hammer hitting the metal piece he had to strike over and over again. Next, it was the equipment carry. He had to carry a forty-five pound hydraulic spreader one hundred feet. His legs were shaky after that, but his ribs were doing good.

The most grueling drill was the stair climb. He had to carry two fifteen pound sections of hose up three flights of stairs and then back down. That got his ribs burning, his lungs too. Finally, it was on to the victim rescue where he had to drag a one hundred and seventy pound dummy twenty-five feet.

His ribs were on fire afterwards, but he had been expecting that. It was a good kind of burn, the kind that let you know you did something worthwhile. And he figured that he did. He hoped that he did because there was no sort of backup plan. There was nothing else he could do or wanted to do. He was a firefighter and nothing else. It was in his blood, in his soul, and that was the end of it.

His time wasn't record-setting but it was well within the allotted time. Merle and Michonne were waiting to congratulate him on the sidelines, but he knew his time wouldn't be the only determining factor. The doctors had to send their results to the board to be reviewed before he was given the go ahead to return to work. That would take a few days and was probably the worst part of all: the waiting.

"Told ya, Darlina! Piece o' cake. Go get changed and we'll head back ta the house," Merle told him when he was done. 

Daryl didn't really want to go back to the house. He wasn't ready to face that fact that everyone else had still been right when they said both him and Rick would be sticking around. And he sure as shit wasn't ready to face Rick. The only reason he agreed was because it was 'Red' shift's day on and Abraham's crew would be the ones working.

As soon as he pulled up to the house, he knew something was up. The parking lot was full and the curb was lined with cars. If it had been a little later in the day, not right before noon, he would have thought it was some sort of community outreach. When Michonne jumped out of Merle's truck and grabbed his keys, he knew for sure that it wasn't.

"Gimme my damn keys!" he ordered.

"You can have 'em back after the cake," she smirked.

"What cake?" he asked, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

"The cake for the party. This is Dale's retirement party."

"And yer 'Welcome Home' party, too," Merle added.

"We figured ya wouldn't've come if ya knew," Michonne continued.

"You're right, now gimme my damn keys!" he repeated, staring nervously at Rick's beat up jeep over her shoulder. He just couldn't face the guy, not now, not ever, not until he absolutely _had_ to go back to work. And he certainly didn't want to do it in the middle of the crowded firehouse with what looked like all three shifts present.

His shoulders tensed when he heard Rick address him from behind, "'Bout time you showed up, Darlin'! We were startin' ta worry."

Goddammit! Why'd he sound so cheerful? He closed his eyes for a second, hoping that he was hearing things because the last thing he wanted to do was—

"Think we need ta talk," Rick said from right in front of him.

He opened his eyes to find Rick's unnaturally blue eyes staring back at him—and was that concern?—as he cocked his head to the side. He had a cut under his lip that was scabbed over and the faintest hint of green on his cheek from the black eye he had given him during their very one-sided fight.

"Rick, I'm sorry," he apologized. Never did he think he'd say those words to him, but he was trying at least.

"What? No 'Asshole'? I kinda missed that," Rick smirked.

And for some reason, that forced his wall back up. "Fine," he huffed, "Hey, Asshole, shut the fuck up! I'm tryin' ta apologize here," he snapped.

"Nah, it was mostly on me, I pushed ya into it. Wish it hadn't been in front of my boy, but it was a good teachin' moment or some shit like that."

"Unbelievable! Ya can't even take a damn apology right!!" Daryl scoffed. "Where the fuck did Michonne and Merle go?" he said as he turned around. More so trying to avoid Rick's overly sincere eyes as opposed to looking for them.

"Can we start over?" Rick asked from beside him. "We're gonna be workin' together from now on, so we're gonna have to try and get along a little better. I'm willin' if you are."

Daryl gave a non-committal grunt.

"Well, you'll be on Engine with Tyreese and them, but we'll—"

"The fuck did ya just say? He's puttin' me on Engine?" Daryl roared as he took off toward the house. "Hell no!"

"Does it really matter?" Rick asked. Daryl spun around and leveled him with his infamous scowl. God, Rick missed that! And he absolutely in no way swooned.

"Why the hell are ya lookin' at me like that?" Daryl asked.

"Like what?" Rick shrugged with a shit-eating grin.

"Like that!" he hollered, waving his hands in front of Rick's face.

"Guess it's 'cause I missed ya, Dar—"

"Don'cha dare call me that!"

"Was just gonna say 'Daryl'," Rick lied. "Come on, don't tell me ya didn't miss this," he said motioning between them.

"No!" _Yes!_ Daryl spun back around and headed into the house to yell at Merle. It wasn't just that he wanted to be on Truck—he did because that's where he was before with T-Dog, Otis, and Shane—but he also didn't like the idea of Rick taking his spot. Sure, he got his place in the house back, but Rick was still taking something else of his. 

"Liar," Rick teased, a step behind him.

"Fuck. You." Daryl replied before he swung the door open. The whole house was waiting on the other side and yelled 'Welcome back!' when he came in. His face went from red and angry to red and embarrassed in the blink of an eye. He hated crowds and attention, but the promise of cake helped.

The only good thing about the crowd was that he was able to get away from Rick for awhile. All except for those bright eyes that followed him everywhere. And Daryl only knew that because he had to keep his eyes on the guy as well. For safety reasons of course, not because he may have missed him, too. Because he didn't....

Fuck! They were going to have to be friends now, weren't they? 

Daryl was not prepared for that at all. He'd only known how to be an ass to the guy. Rick didn't seem to mind, though. He said he missed it, missed him, maybe he even liked their incessant fighting. Or maybe he was lying. Either way, he wasn't too surprised; the older man seemed a little off his rocker always calling him 'Darling'. Not that he was one to talk always calling him 'Asshole'.

Just because the guy wasn't replacing him anymore—except on Truck which he wasn't about to let go of easily—didn't mean they had to be pals. They could still be enemies, or perhaps just pretend to be. Rick must've been thinking the same thing because he looked up and caught the other man's gaze, a quirky, crooked smile on his full lips that Daryl was sure matched his own fairly well.

But then something strange happened. Rick winked at him from across the room, and he knew it wasn't condescending or done out of malice or even to get a rise out of him like usual; it was genuine, like he meant it as a peace offering or an olive branch. A promise of a new start. And while he wasn't expecting that, he kind of appreciated the gesture. 

However, it was the sweaty palms it gave him that very nearly broke his brain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little firefighter lingo and fyi: SCBA is short for self-contained breathing apparatus, which is their masks and air supply stuff, a charged hose is one filled with water, and a hydraulic spreader is a tool used to cut people out of cars and things, i.e. the Jaws of Life.


	9. Denial: A River Somewhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl goes back to work...and tries really hard not to figure it out.

Daryl woke up nervous like it was the first day of school. He hadn't been back to the house since the party last week, but today was going to change that. Today was the day he had been waiting for since he woke up in that hospital. Today, him and Rick were supposed to become brothers. 

And he still didn't know what to think about that. 

They hadn't talked since their short conversation before the party. Rick was busy getting to know the guys from the other shifts: Abraham and his crew—the Red shift—and Phillip and the Woodbury guys. (Wherever Phillip got that name from, he wasn't sure; the guy was weird.) That was fine by him, though, because it kept Rick out of his, still very short, hair.

Daryl was absolutely in no way jealous when Rick glowered at Phillip for what was most likely one of the many irritating things he blubbered on about. Why would he be? It wasn't like he had a monopoly on all of Rick's scowls, wasn't like he missed them when he was gone. It wasn't like he craved them just as much as the brief glimpse of a smile he'd be transfixed by when Rick wasn't, when nobody was, watching.

Well, Shit!

Was he pining for his arch nemesis?

And when exactly had he become jealous of people Rick talked to?

He wasn't! That would've been ridiculous. And the sweat palms thing had just been from his social anxiety—because of the crowd and all—he quickly concluded. It was the only thing that made sense. 

"Hey baby brother! Thought you was gonna be late for your first shift back," Merle greeted him as soon as he walked in the house.

"Ya put me back on Truck yet?" Daryl asked, deciding to skip the salutations.

"We're gonna see how things go as is. What's yer aversion to Engine? Just bein' pissy 'cause yer lover boy stole yer spot?"

"So what if I am?" he huffed, content to ignore that lover boy quip.

"Dammit, Daryl! I was really hopin' that you'd finally pull yer head outta yer ass and try ta get along with the guy, but yer jus' gonna find sumpin' new ta harp on him for no matter what, ain't ya?"

"That is _my_ truck! He was just supposed ta be there temporarily. I'm back now and should be put back where I belong 'cause that's what's right," he countered.

Merle knew he was in fact right, but he wasn't about to budge for two very important reasons. One, he really liked pissing off his little brother. And two, he really liked stirring up trouble. As long as it didn't effect their job performance or the house, he was happy to continue to stoke the flames of their highly entertaining rivalry. On a deeper level, he had a hunch they both liked it.

"Rick's been doin' fine on Truck. Until that changes, that's where he's stayin'. Now, go throw yer temper tantrum somewhere else, boy. I got work ta do," Merle said, eyes narrowing signaling the end of their conversation.

Daryl didn't get much time to settle in before their first call of the day came in. He had only been upstairs long enough to fix him some coffee and grab one of Rick's donuts. For the first time, he let himself enjoy it. Licking his fingers while pinning Rick with the imagery daggers he visualized were being hurled out of his eyes.

The man just stood there across the island from him glaring right back. The only reason he noticed the blink-and-you'd-miss-it flicker of those blue eyes down to his mouth when his tongue ran over the pad of his thumb, lapping up the last bit of chocolate glaze, was because he was staring at him so intently. 

Didn't mean anything. Any of it. 

They didn't say a thing to each other, just followed the herd down to their turnout gear when the alarm blared, hopped in their perspective rigs—him flipping Rick off because dammit that was his truck, and Rick returning it—and sped away. 

God, it felt good to have the sirens sounding overhead, the sharp turn of the engine around a corner—Morgan was just as wild as Shane at the wheel—and the adrenaline increasing by the second like a hydrant had been opened full flow into his veins.

It was only a three-car pileup with minor injuries which didn't take long to clear up. Him and Tara directed traffic with one of the cops while the others cleaned up and helped out where they could. He didn't mind it, though, kept his mind focused and off other things.

They got back to the house and Tara and Tyreese showed him around the fire engine. He knew where most of the equipment was already, but he needed to know the rig inside and out because speed would be of the utmost importance when life and death were on the line as it usually was on a call. They finished up with their morning inspection. Then, it was time for lunch.

Rick sat by him at the table as usual. It wasn't odd for people to take the same seats every time, like it would be unlucky to sit anywhere else. Superstitious bunch. There was a little shuffle after Rick came around and today with Dale finally gone, but things figured themselves out on their own.

Five hours in and they still hadn't said a word to each other. Daryl wasn't sure what to make of that. They went on like business as usual with him talking to his side of the table and Rick his. Not that they had sides, the conversation would pass their invisible line plenty. It was more like they wouldn't cross each others. Maybe that was respect, maybe it was them being stubborn.

Even with Rick around, on _his_ truck, it was good to be back to work being useful. It was good to know that he wouldn't be left behind when an alarm call came in and that he could jump in wherever he was needed. It was nice to be able to follow his brothers and sisters out of the house and into danger, to have their backs again.

That was what he was concentrating on between every bite of ravioli and why he didn't notice his body moving ever so slightly, without thought, towards the comforting heat coming off the man to his right, and why he didn't notice the calming effect it had on him when he did so. And that was most certainly why he failed to notice Rick doing the same thing.

It wasn't until lights out that they said their first words. Rick had been giving Daryl his space as he readjusted to work and the firehouse after being gone for so long. He was just as happy as anyone else to have the younger Dixon back where he mostly belonged. Yeah, yeah, he knew he was kind of pissed about being stuck on Engine, but he figured they'd work better together with some point of contention between them.

"Nite, Asshole," Daryl muttered from two bunks away. He always saved Rick for last.

"Nite Darlin'," Rick mumbled back. Both were glad the lights were already switched off. No one needed to see their stupid grins and get the wrong impression.

*****

The alarm blasting a high-pitched screech at a quarter past two was not well received, but it signaled that they had a job to do, and they'd do it without hesitation or complaint. Daryl especially. He jumped out of bed and followed the crowd down to their waiting turnout gear, quickly slithering into his second skin as he pulled his protective pants up and threw on his heavy jacket.

Rick caught his eye as they climbed into their respective rigs almost simultaneously. And of course, he couldn't resist giving the man the finger or rolling his eyes when Rick reciprocated. That particular exchange had lost all it's malice weeks ago, possibly months ago. Now, it was done more out of affection.

Fuck no! Not affection. It was just done out of habit and was in no way a silent promise not to die or their way of saying 'be careful'. It was just a bad habit was all. A habit that calmed them both and everyone around them which he hadn't bothered to notice. There were a lot of things he was starting to not notice and a lot of things he was actively trying not to.

He was blind to the oncoming inferno, one that he hadn't even realized had begun to spark, that no one had, not even Rick. But it was coming and it was building, gaining momentum, and it was starting to catch fire. It would be burning bright in a month, raging in two, out of control in three, and all consuming in four.

But right now, he was heading towards a two floor blaze in an industrial district. That, he could see. The buildings were most likely deserted by this time of night. Dispatch had relayed over the radio that the building in question was supposed to be cleared. Battling the flames and keeping them contained would be their main focus.

Daryl had the door swung open before the wheels had stopped, Tara following him out, as they sprung into action. The hoses needed to be assembled, laid out and charged, the ladders needed to be raised, coordination with the other house called in needed to be orchestrated. Everyone knew their job and went to it.

Morgan worked with House Thirteen to set up an attack plan, them going high, Thirteen going low. Bob, Sasha, and Michonne were on stand-by since no injuries were reported yet. They worked crowd control, a few homeless people and other passersby were standing around in awe. Daryl, Tara, and Tyreese were taking care of the hoses. Truck Company were prepping their ladders.

The fire had started on the second floor of a five story building and was suspected to be an electrical fire. Daryl had wanted to be on point on the ladder like before, but Shane refused to let him since it was his first day back and he was now assigned to Engine not Truck. It was frustrating, but he knew there would be others, and he knew Shane was right.

It was a pretty windy evening and there were worries about the fire spreading to neighboring buildings, but they were able to keep it contained to the two floors it had already reached before they arrived. They were able to put it out fairly quickly with help from Thirteen. It was always nice working with other houses. The more the merrier, Daryl thought.

He knew everyone's eyes were on him most of his shift. Of course, Rick's were the only ones who unnerved him. There was something in them that he couldn't quite read, something different. It wasn't worry or a need to overprotect him like the others had. Daryl thought it was intrigue or something similar since they hadn't worked together before, not on a call anyway. Maybe he was just feeling him out.

"What?" he finally snapped when Rick came up behind him to help put something away. He knew it was Rick without having to turn around, the sound of his footfalls and his gait were imprinted onto his brain. It was like he could feel him, his presence, like a sixth sense, but he supposed that was because he had spent the last three months tracking his every move.

"What?" Rick shrugged.

"Why ya keep starin' at me?"

"Someone's gotta make sure ya don't screw up on your first day back," Rick teased.

"I ain't gonna screw nothin' up," Daryl scoffed. "Been doing this most of my life. Just like you, Ty, T, Morgan. I know what the hell I'm doin'," he said defensively.

"Then, why'd ya put the connecters where the skypacks go?"

"Maybe 'cause ya stole my spot on Truck!" Daryl huffed.

"Sorry 'bout that," Rick smirked.

"Yeah, I can see you're _real_ torn up about it," he rolled his eyes.

"What do ya want me to do about it? Tell Merle to switch us?" Rick chuckled.

"Yeah," Daryl said, eyeing him skeptically.

"Yeah, well maybe if ya hadn't been such a giant dick to me for the past three months, I might've considered it."

"Oh bullshit. I haven't been that bad, you're still here."

"Look what ya did to my hair!" Rick countered, taking off his helmet and tilting his head around.

"Looks fine ta me," Daryl lied. It looked weird short. He liked it longer, liked his curls. Fuck! No he didn't! 

"Looks better than yours," Rick snickered.

"Rick!" Shane hollered from their rig. "Le's go man."

"See ya back at the house," Rick said to Daryl as he headed towards the waiting truck.

"Unfortunately," Daryl yelled over his shoulder before turning his head to hide his smirk. Maybe they could be friends....

***** 

The following evening the gang went out to their favorite bar down the road from the house to celebrate Daryl's first day back at work. Rick hadn't been to a bar in years. He declined at first, but Michonne threatened to chop of his balls with a rusty knife. He just hoped they wouldn't do anything stupid like try to find him a date. How could he explain that he just wasn't interested in dating or women right now?

He was never really interested in women per say. He was only interested in Lori. There would never be another her and that was fine. He could be happy alone...with his hand. It was safer that way, he wouldn't get hurt again. Carl kept saying he looked happy. He felt happy. It was confusing at first because he hadn't expected to ever feel that way again.

He was happy about his job, about the people he worked with, the friends he'd made since they moved, the relationship with his son that appeared to be stronger than ever. Happy that Daryl was coming around, that they found a way to coexist, to actually get along. 

He liked being around Daryl. He didn't have to filter himself or worry about hurting his feelings. It was easy to be around him even with the frustrations and headaches that came along with it, with their earlier encounters. But even those were easy, they made sense, he knew what to do, what to say. He just seemed to _get_ Daryl and vice versa. 

Or maybe that was due to all the hours they spent staring into each other's souls as they tried to blow up the other with their minds.

His thoughts came to a crashing halt when his sister walked in the bar. He was getting their next round of beer when he heard Tyreese say her name. He had introduced them at a barbecue Ty invited them to at his house a few weeks back and they hit it off instantly.

What shocked him, though, was the way Daryl rushed to her and gave her a big hug like they knew each other. "What are you doin' here, Carol?" Rick heard him ask with surprise.

"Came to see my boyfriend," she smiled as Tyreese came up beside her and kissed her cheek. 

"Ty's your boyfriend?" Daryl asked. "Merle has a girlfriend. T, ya got a girl?" _What the hell?_ He went away for two weeks—okay, more like three—and he comes back and everyone is paired up but him? Fuck his life.

"Yep. Ya'll can't meet her yet 'cause I actually like her," T-Dog answered.

"Shit! I'm the last single guy in the house," he groaned.

"Rick's single," Tyreese said.

"Yeah, Daryl. Rick'll be your wingman," Shane snickered.

"Sure will, Darlin'," Rick winked.

"Fuck you, Grimes," Daryl hissed.

"Nah, but I'll help ya find someone who might," Rick quipped back. Daryl just rolled his eyes as everyone laughed. "Shouldn't be too hard with that winnin' personality o' yours and all."

"Rick," Carol said in a scolding tone.

"What?" he smirked. "Just teasin' 'im, Care."

"How do ya know Rick?" Daryl asked Carol completely befuddled.

"He's my little brother. Small world, isn't it?," Carol said.

Daryl stared blankly at her. He wasn't sure he heard her right until he looked back at Rick who winked at him again. What the hell was going on here? He felt like he stepped into the twilight zone or a different dimension.

"You two know each other?" Tyreese asked.

"Yeah, we used to live next door at my old apartment. Still friends, she fed my cat while I was gone last month," Daryl answered for the both of them.

"I wondered if you were the same Daryl Rick talked about," Carol said as they headed over to their table.

 _Rick talked about me? Yeah, probably about how big of an asshole ya are,_ Daryl berated himself.

After a few more rounds, the place was crowded with people. It was loud and rowdy and Rick just needed a damn brake from all the noise. He walked out to the patio around back. Carol and Tyreese we sitting at a table talking quietly. Daryl was by the railing talking to two women. Let's be honest, they looked like teenagers. Firebunnies as Shane would say.

Being a good wingman, he walked up to them with the intention of helping him out, but apparently his mouth had other plans. Apparently his mouth decided to 'save' Daryl from himself and these vulture-esque women because that's what friends do. Or maybe his mouth was jealous. Of Daryl, that is. Not of the two hot women hanging all over him.... 

"Hey Beautiful, we're missin' ya inside," Rick winked at him. Why couldn't he stop winking at him?!

Must've been the beer.

"Really, _Sweetheart?_ 'We' or you?" Daryl winked back. And Rick nearly choked on his own spit because what the fuck was that? "Asshole! Get outta here!" Daryl nudged him almost playfully. He must've been drunk too because he wasn't scowling like Rick excepted, he was almost, _almost,_ smiling.

"What? You're not gonna introduce me to your new friends here, Darlin'?" he asked, eyeing the girls. And maybe they saw something in his expression that he was oblivious to because they started moving away.

"We have to get back to our friends," one if them replied as they walked back inside snickering to themselves.

"What the fuck did ya do that for? Runnin' 'em off?" Daryl barked. "Shit, ya can't even do the wingman thing right! Can't say I'm surprised." 

He wasn't about to thank Rick for helping him out even though those girls were terrible. The whole time they were talking, he kept wondering which one was more Rick's type, not which one was his. Neither were. God, they were dull. Maybe he was maturing because he really didn't want to bang either one.

"You can do better," Rick simply said before walking away. And it was Daryl's turn to nearly choke on his spit because that was a damn compliment.

Must've been the beer.

As they were leaving, Rick handed him two neatly folded napkins with names and numbers written on them. He looked at him confused until Rick nodded over in the direction that the two women were standing. He must've worked his wingman voodoo because Daryl was sure they probably thought the two of them were gay lovers or something. 

They did actually. Rick had explained that him and Daryl were just hazing each other a bit when he got their numbers for him. He felt bad about ruining his chances with them. If Daryl wanted to pick up some floozies in a bar, that was none of his business. 

He really must've drank too much because that's when his stomach started to get all twisty and upset.

Daryl was the last one of them to leave the table, pounding back his last beer before walking away. He looked down at the crumbled napkins in his hand, sighed, and threw them on the table. He placed his empty glass on top of them and headed out.

A few minutes later, Rick walked back in to retrieve his left behind jacket. He noticed the scribbled-upon slips of tissue and stared down at them completely dumbfounded. Daryl left him behind. Intentionally. _Why'd he do that?_


	10. In Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Daryl flirt.

_Rick felt the wet warmth of a flattened tongue glide over the skin of his neck up to his ear. The lobe was sucked into a hot mouth as fingers slid down his chest to his thigh, pulling it up to wrap around a solid waist. He let out a gasp and arched his naked body off the bed and into the one above him._

_Lips kissed along his jaw to his mouth that was instantly invaded by the same skilled tongue, twisting and slipping against his until his bottom lip was sucked into that same hot mouth and nibbled on with just the right about of pressure to curl his toes, breath lost to moans of pleasure._

_Then, the gentle teeth let him go, and staring down at him were Daryl's unmistakable blue eyes filled with want and need. He bit his lip, his teeth finding the marks that Daryl left, as the man pushed into him. He'd never felt so alive, so amazing. It was glorious, the weight of Daryl's body pressing down on him, the feel of his cock splitting him open, the heated breath over his sweat-drenched skin._

_Daryl surged in and out of him like the goddamn tide: unstoppable, uncontainable, unrelenting. His swollen lips were fluttering on Rick's collarbone, one hand tangled in his hair, the other slithering between them to stroke his cock. It was too much too fast and his vision turned white when he came screaming Daryl's name._

But when he opened his eyes, everything was dark. He was alone in bed and there was a coldness building around his now flaccid cock. Shit! He just had a fucking wet dream. Then, it registered who it was about and his heart froze with something like terror gripping his bones.

"It's just been awhile. You're hungover, still a little drunk maybe," he told himself. It wasn't a big deal. Sure he hadn't had a dream like that since high school, but he'd never gone over a year and a half without sex since then either.

 _It wasn't about Daryl,_ he thought. _It was just about the release._ Maybe he should start thinking about dating. No. He didn't want to date just for the sex. He'd just have to spend more quality time with his hand. He had been neglecting that need a little lately.

He got up and hopped in the shower to clean himself up. Bits and pieces of the dream would occasionally flash through his mind unwittingly; Daryl's lips or his teeth or his nails dragging across his skin, across his neck. His cock would start to react, but he'd quickly push the thoughts away. 

He turned the temperature of the water down hoping it would help but it didn't. The tension in his gut was too much, he knew he had to relieve it or walk around with a hard-on all day. He was on handyman duty so that wasn't an option, not with half the single women in the building trying to bed him.

He quickly began to stroke himself vigorously because he really needed to start his day. He tried to think of anyone but Daryl and his masculine form, his broad shoulders, his muscular thighs. He tried to think of feminine features: the women from the bar the night before, the leering neighbor, Milly, from next door, Lori's curvy hips, the perky tits on the girl at his donut shop.

But that didn't help, he didn't have time to fantasize. He increased his grip and his speed, trying to block out the thoughts and concentrate on the feel of his fingers running over the length of him. That was better and he was close, but it wasn't until Daryl's eyes flashed behind his lids that he came. Hard.

"Fuck!" he cursed, frustrated and confused. What the hell was going on with him?

Pretty much the same thing that was happening to Daryl five minutes away in his own shower. Except he was cursing his dick much more adamantly and threatening to get revenge on the 'Asshole witchdoctor' who clearly put a curse on his cock. That was the only explanation he could come up with. No wonder he kept calling him 'Darling'.

Shit! Did Rick like him? Was he supposed to be flattered? Did he...could he...was it possible that he liked Rick? He was sure he didn't like guys. Well, he was sure he'd never gotten off to one before, never gotten hard at the manufactured image of Rick—FUCK!—of _some guy_ with strong arms and hollowed out cheeks as they sucked him off. 

"Fu-uck!" He was _never_ drinking again.

*****

Rick and Daryl both spent their next couple of shifts avoiding each other like the plague. Neither knew that the other was doing the same thing. No one else seemed to notice. They still sat at their same spots at the table next to each other at meals. But that was it. Rick kind of missed being called Asshole, and Daryl Darling, but neither would admit that.

It wasn't until a week later that things normalized some. Rick was the one who broke the stalemate, but it was against his will. He found Daryl in the hanger checking equipment quality. "Hey Darlin'," he cooed, the syrupy drawl of his accent sending a burst a warmth pooling in Daryl's chest. 

God, he missed that. They both did.

"Oh hey, Asshole," Daryl nipped, the bitter chill of his gravely voice sent a pleasant shiver down Rick's spine. "What?" he hissed when Rick just stared at him for a minute.

"Merle wants me ta go to the school with ya'll later," he answered.

"Why?" Daryl asked with a furrowed brow.

"I don't know! Go ask him yourself," Rick scoffed.

They both had a feeling why. Out of everyone in the house, it was Merle who'd notice if they weren't speaking. He would force the situation if for nothing else but the entertainment value. He'd probably lie if they asked, too, the ol' stubborn bastard.

"Fine, we're leavin' in twenty. Don't be late on the rig or I'll leave your ass here."

"You're drivin'?" Rick asked with amusement.

"Fuck you, Asshole. I can drive just fine. Used ta drive the Truck till ya stole my spot," he pouted.

"Shane didn't mention that. But we don't really talk about you. He's too busy goin' on and on about all his firebunnies."

"Yeah, can't say I miss that."

"Glenn and I do the smile and nod thing while him and T-Dog go to town," Rick chuckled.

"Sounds like me and Otis," Daryl said. Rick watched as his face fell at the mention of his fallen brother. He knew that look. The same one still haunted him in the mirror some days. Survivor's guilt.

"Hey, I, uh, I'm sorry we had ta meet like that, because of that. I never lost a brother from my house before so I can't imagine what that was like, but I do know loss. And I'm sorry for yours."

"Weren't your fault," Daryl stated firmly.

"Wasn't yours either."

Daryl looked up at him with narrow eyes from the back of the engine he was sitting on. He gave a jerky nod and turned his attention back to the clipboard he had in his hands.

"If I make ya a sandwich, are ya gonna trash it?" Rick asked. 

"Ya gonna poison it?" Daryl teased, actually teased, quirky half smile and everything. And Rick's heart absolutely _did not_ flutter! It was just a fucking smile. First one Daryl ever gave him, but still, just a smile. Friends do that, coworkers do that. No big deal.

"Nah, Darlin', I think we're past that, don't you?" Rick smirked. He had to call him that, just had to. He was flirting. It took him a minute to realize it because it had been _awhile_ , but he was. He just hoped Daryl wouldn't pick up on it. He hoped he was so bad and rusty that he wouldn't notice. 

But Daryl did, only because he was looking for it. "Shut the hell up!" he scowled, but there was no malice behind it. He tried, but there was none to be found because he was flirting back. He needed to cut that shit out. They were still enemies, he reminded himself. Rick still had his spot on Truck. And holy hell, he was a _guy!_

"So...was that a 'yes'?"

But he was hungry. "Merle told me ta stop wastin' food."

"Okay then," Rick said as he turned to head to the kitchen.

"No mayo," Daryl yelled after him.

"I know how ya like your damn sandwich," he hollered back over his shoulder.

"And how the hell do ya know that?" Daryl wasn't going to confess that he knew how Rick liked his, too.

"I have these two things called eyes. I use them. You should try usin' yours sometime," Rick grinned back at him as he opened the door.

"Just get your ass in the kitchen and make me my damn sandwich. I ain't got all day!" Daryl huffed, rolling his eyes. So what if he spent the next five minutes trying to wipe the stupid grin off his face? It was just because he tricked Rick into making him lunch. That was exactly what happened.

*****

Engine company, plus Rick, arrived at a nearby school half an hour later. They were soon ushered into an auditorium full of third graders where they went into their presentation on fire safety. After giving them a quick tour of the rig, they repeated the program for the fourth, fifth, and sixth grade classes.

Rick liked kids, he had one, almost had two, but it was obvious that Daryl didn't. He fidgeted most of the time and chewed on his nails. He also didn't say much at the presentation which was one of the reasons Rick thought Merle sent him along, to take up the slack.

Halfway through the fifth graders' tour of the rig, Rick decided to try and help take his mind of things. His nails were going to start bleeding if he didn't. He stood to Daryl's right and asked, "You don't like kids?"

"Who said that?" Daryl glared before remembering that they were in public and he represented the community and his brothers. 

Rick knew Daryl wanted to respond with 'Shut the hell up,' but he held his tongue. "Your poor nails." 

"My nails are jus' fine."

Rick grabbed his hand and pulled them up in front of Daryl's face, trying very hard to ignore how warm it was in his, how the other man's fingers felt next to his own, and why Daryl didn't yank them away. "They're almost gone." 

"I like kids alright. Just not in big crowds. I used ta watch your niece, Sophia, sometimes," Daryl explained as he gently—and not at all hastily—pulled his hand from Rick's grip. 

"Ain't that funny? You watchin' my niece," Rick chuckled.

"Yeah well, we got along just fine," Daryl smirked. Because yes, it was funny.

"Stop bittin' your nails or you're gonna be bleedin' all over the rig."

"Whatever, mom," he replied, rolling his eyes.

"You do realize I have a teenaged son, right? I can deal with your attitude. I know how ta handle you," Rick scolded. _Don't even go there, mind,_ Rick chided himself as he shifted uncomfortably in place.

"I'm not a...darn teenager," Daryl said, smiling to the next group of kids who walked by.

"Coulda fooled me," Rick barked at him quietly.

Their pleasant conversation was interrupted when a couple of teachers walked up to them. "So, how long have you two been firefighters?" one of them asked with a bright smile.

"About fifteen years for me," Rick smiled back. He got more attention from women while he was working than any other time. He was pretty decent at fake flirting, but he was hopeless when it came to someone he liked. Obviously. Shit! 'Someone he liked'?

"Twelve," Daryl huffed. And no, he was not upset by the sudden intrusion into their conversation. He was pissed because they were there to fawn over Rick, not him. He was jealous...of Rick, NOT the women. He might as well have been invisible next to him and his dreamy cyan eyes. 

That wasn't true, he just didn't notice them noticing him with his focus solely on Rick.

"Bet ya'll get hit on a lot," the other teacher purred.

Rick smiled wide. "Part of the job, ma'am," he said, rubbing his face with his left hand, his attempt to draw attention to his wedding ring. 

Daryl hid the smile threatening to break across his face when he realized what he was doing. Neither women got the message, though. Either that, or they simply didn't care. Out of nowhere, Rick's hand brushed against his and his whole body lit up like a wildfire, mouth going dry. _The fuck?_

"You probably get lots of dates, sugar," one smirked at Rick, pouting out her lips, giving up on clueless, unresponsive Daryl. 

"Ya want a few more?" the other winked, making the same face as her friend was.

Daryl softly rolled his eyes. They looked ridiculous, like a couple of ducks or something. He brushed his hand against Rick's, unintentionally of course. He wasn't sure what possessed him to grab it, but he did, and Rick didn't pull away, just like he didn't when Rick took his. 

"Nah, he's taken," Daryl said gruffly, holding up their hands to show off Rick's wedding ring, and probably more effectively, their interlocked fingers that had sparks shooting directly into his groin.

"Ain't that a shame," one said. Daryl squealed internally as he watched their flirty smiles fade. That was a win. Somehow. "We, uh, have to get back to our classes. Keep up the good work," she said, dragging away her friend.

"Why'd ya do that for?" Rick hissed. His projected anger would've been more effective if he had yanked his hand away instead of slowly slipping it out of Daryl's.

"Wingman," Daryl said.

"More like cockblocker."

"Did ya really want their numbers? No, 'cause, they weren't your type."

"And what would that be?" Rick said, his hands going on his hips as he turned to face him, his expression partly between a glare and intrigue.

"They were 'Maggies', you need 'Michonnes'," Daryl tried to explain.

"Thought she was with your brother."

"Not Michonne, _'Michonnes.'_ Ya know what I mean, ya ain't that dense." 

"That's not the point, Daryl."

"What is the point, _Rick_?"

"I can chase off my own women. Thank you very much."

"You're welcome," Daryl said smugly.

"Fu-orget you!" Rick snickered as he caught himself mid curse.

"Yeah, that ring trick really worked," he said sarcastically.

"Shut up," Rick said with a playfully nudge.

They stood there in a comfortable silence for the next ten minutes or so, waving at the kids filtering through the rig and smiling at their teachers. None flirted with them again. They took turns 'accidentally' brushing their hands, arms, and shoulders together, neither willing to stray too far out of the other's orbit nor look directly at what any of it meant.

After the last group went through the rig, they shook the principal's hand and headed off. Right as they were pulling up to the house, they got a call. Rick jumped out of the engine, jacket in hand, and hurried to the truck. As soon as Glenn slammed the door closed, they were off.

Rick didn't know Atlanta well, but when they turned down Maple Hill Avenue, his heart began to beat out of his chest. They were on the same street as the double fire their arsonist set across from one another months ago. From the looks Glenn gave him, he was thinking the same thing, 'Please don't be our guy.'

They pulled up to the curb of the house right next door to where the second fire had been set. There were neighbors yelling for help, some in hysterics, because there were people inside and they had their own suspicions that it was the same guy terrorizing their neighborhood.

Glenn and T-Dog went to do a quick sweep of the downstairs while Shane and Rick went right up to the second. The house was practically a cookie cutter layout of the other so  
Rick headed straight to the master bedroom. His heart sank when he saw smoke coming out from under the door. 

They had to hack the oak to pieces to get in, and as soon as they did, a wall of thick, black smoke hit them like a freight train. The bastard changed his MO and set a secondary fire in the bedroom. Visibility was nil, the room engulfed in flames. Rick wanted to go in anyway which he knew was a stupid idea, but Shane stood in his way and pushed him back towards the stairs. 

They cleared the other bedrooms on their way out, his heart sinking with every empty room. He knew what that meant, they all did. They weren't fast enough, the call came in too late. There were only bodies left. A divorced father and his two daughters. The fucking bastard killed two kids!

Rick was seething by the time they got back outside, pushing down the anger raging inside him while they put out the flames because that was their job, that's what they did. He was on autopilot, going through the motions, head down as the hoses soaked the flames that extinguished three lives. The mood was quiet and somber, no one knowing what to say. 

Rick knew it was irrational but he felt responsible, like the arsonist was targeting him, torturing him. The fires started right after he did and they were only happening in their region while his shift was on duty. But that was just a coincidence.

He was sitting on the curb, dragging a hand down his face, when he felt eyes on him. And for once, they weren't Daryl's. He looked into the crowd of bystanders just in time to see the flash of a camera. This was the first time the media had come out, news vans, reporters, and photographers. A damn circus was what it was.

The tall, lanky photographer lowered his camera and gave him a wiry grin before raising the camera and snapping another set of pictures. Why'd that guy look so familiar? He didn't have much time to think about, Daryl soon blocked his view as he handed him a bottle of water, fingers brushing and perhaps lingering a little. He was thankful for the distraction.

"'S for the sandwich, don't get used to it," Daryl mumbled as he sat down next to him.

I'll try not to," he replied as he twisted off the cap and downed half the bottle in one go. "That damn photographer's givin' me the creeps."

"Must like ya, 's been snap pics of ya all damn day. Surprised ya haven't broken his camera with your ugly mug," he teased. Yes, he noticed. Keeping an eye on Rick was just a habit now. Always keeping him in his line of sight in case the Asshole turned on him like a slippery snake.

"Fuck off," Rick chuckled as he nudged him with his elbow. 

"Must live around here, saw 'im the last time we were here," Daryl said before polishing off his water.

"If our arsonist likes to watch, he might have some pictures of them, might've seen somethin'."

"'M sure the cops'll get around to it, if they haven't already. Still can't believe they haven't gotten a lead yet. Our job's hard enough as it is, don't need any crazy fuckers makin' it worse."

Rick hummed in agreement as they got up and went back to work. 

The rest of the shift was pretty slow and pretty quiet. He didn't like that at all; it gave him way too much time to think, mostly about Carl. He made sure to spend a lot more time with him over the next several days, bonding and horsing around, enjoying him really. 

But as bad as that shift was, it was the time he spent talking to Daryl that stayed with him long after he went home.


	11. A Jealous Bitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Daryl fight...again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaannnndddd here's the angsty. Just remember that everything is going to be just fine. Promise!

The house was still a little solemn from the arson on their next couple of shifts. As if that weren't bad enough, they were expecting a 'surprise' visit from the fire chief sometime soon. Rick hadn't met Chief Greene before but he heard nothing but good things about the man, stern but understanding.

Still, the man wasn't what he was expecting: scruffy white beard, kind blue eyes, a subtle smile as he took in his flock. They had a short meeting about administrative things before everyone went back to their duties, making sure to look busy and hard at work as Hershel walked around observing.

Rick was out in the hanger tending to the truck when a familiar face strolled through the door. Beth lit up immediately when she saw him. They had met briefly when he picked Carl up from school one day. She walk straight up to him and held out her hand for him to shake.

"Mr. Grimes, right? Carl's dad?" Beth asked, blue eyes all bright and inviting. Just like her dad's.

"Yeah, that's right. Please, call me Rick. Nice ta see ya again Beth," he replied. 

"You too," she smiled back.

"So how's school goin'? Carl said ya were smart so I'm sure it's goin' well."

"Yeah, it's good. Can't wait ta graduate, though," she said wistfully. "Carl said you were a firefighter. Didn't know you were in my sister's house." 

"Sister?"

"Maggie! And my dad's the fire chief," she said proudly. "Decided to tag along when he mentioned he was goin' ta Maggie's house this afternoon." 

"You and Maggie are sisters? She mentioned ya, but I guess I didn't put two and two together," he replied, scratching his head. "This big city's pretty small sometimes. Although, I do remember Carl sayin' somethin' about your dad before."

"I don't like ta bring that up. Feels like braggin'," she said blushing.

"I'm sure that's not braggin'," Rick assured her. 

"Oh hey, I suppose that makes you the Rick that set Maggie up with Glenn. Thanks for that! She's really happy with him. Daddy's still not sold, but he'll come around. He's old fashioned, hard ta please, y'know?"

"Yeah, I know the type," Rick smiled. For once, he was too preoccupied with someone else to notice Daryl walk in, Michonne trailing behind. 

"What the hell is he doin' over there?" Daryl asked Michonne.

"Talkin' ta Beth, it looks like," she replied, rolling her eyes at having to state the obvious.

"Better not be hittin' on her. She's just a kid," he grumbled.

"You're always thinking he's hittin' on someone. Ever thought that maybe he's just a nice guy?" she chided him. "Besides, she's not much younger than the girls you were chasin' at the bar the other night."

"Fuck you," he said as he started walking towards Rick and Beth. More like storming towards them.

"Daryl," Michonne called after him, hoping he wouldn't do anything stupid while knowing he probably would.

"....should come over for dinner sometime," he heard Rick say to Beth.

"Replacin' your dead wife with a seventeen year old?" Daryl snarled, hostile and accusatory. And laced with a seething jealousy that surprised even him.

He knew it was over the line as soon as it left his mouth, so it came as no surprise to anyone when Rick's fist made contact with his face. And this time, he was the one refusing to throw a punch. Maybe it was because he thought he owed Rick a few shots from their last fight. But mostly he took it as punishment for being a complete ass.

He was jealous. He knew he was, couldn't deny it. He was fucking jealous. And he was angry, angry because he was jealous of Beth not Rick, and that was the wrong way around. It was confusing and weird. He was straight, he was, thought he was, but he kept thinking about Rick, kept fucking dreaming about him.

About Rick in that towel months ago that made his mouth water although he denied it to himself at the time and every time he'd thought about it since. About the perfect curls he destroyed that were finally started coming back in. About the winks and smiles and laughs that Rick gave him when he was too stubborn to return them because _he_ was the Asshole.

It was his punishment. So he just laid there and took it, curled up while Rick whaled on him.

When Rick came back into his body, his hand was throbbing and Tyreese was holding him tight around the waist. Daryl was bloody on the floor and he could tell people where saying things, but all he could hear were Daryl's words echoing in his ears like a sick mantra. And they hurt in more ways than they should have, more ways than he could understand.

"Let's go take a look at that hand," Sasha said, leading Rick inside the house. She was fast becoming his personal medic. His breathing was haggard as they passed Merle and Hershel who heard the commotion from Merle's office and came rushing out.

"What in god's name is going on out here?" Hershel asked. Him and Merle reluctantly moved out of the way so Rick and Sasha could get by. 

"Uh, Rick and Daryl had a little disagreement," Shane answered.

"Disagreement? Daryl's face is gushin' blood and I gather most of it is on Rick's knuckles! What is goin' on around here, Merle?" the Chief thundered. "Is this a firehouse or a boxin' ring? Is Grimes not a good fit here? Do ya need to move 'im elsewhere? Switch his shift?"

"Nah, it was my fault. I crossed the line and I know it," Daryl admitted. "Said somethin' I shouldn't've. It's on me."

"See that it doesn't. I can't have my firefighters at each other's throats, on shift, with the damn chief in house! This gonna be a problem in the future? Do ya need to juggle your shifts around, Merle?" Hershel asked.

"Do we, Daryl?" Merle asked him.

"Ya ain't gotta do that. It won't happen again," he answered, head bowed in shame as Bob dressed his wounds, just a split lip and bloody nose.

"Alright everyone, get back to work," Hershel ordered. "You and Daryl head back to your office, Merle. I'll be right behind ya." The two Dixon's did as they were told while Hershel stayed back to talk to the witnesses and check on Beth. "You aright? Did ya see what happened?" he asked his youngest daughter.

"Fine daddy. Rick and I were just talkin' 'bout us havin' dinner with him and Carl sometime, and I think Daryl got the wrong impression," she replied softly.

"He did," Michonne added. She didn't feel right about ratting on Daryl but Hershel was someone you didn't want to lie to. Not only because he was her boss' boss, but because he just had an authority about him that demanded the truth and respect. And Daryl was absolutely in the wrong on this one. "Then, he said something inappropriate about Rick's deceased wife. That's when Rick swung."

"Okay then," he sighed. "Maybe you should wait in the car Bethy," he suggested. 

"Sure, daddy," she said. Glenn came over and walked her out while Hershel moved into the house.

Before he made it to Merle's office, he spotted Rick getting his hand bandaged and decided to check on him. He hadn't talked to the man before but Beth had mentioned his son several times and Maggie and Merle had nothing but good things to say about him. That was the only reason he didn't fire him on the spot.

"How's the hand?" he asked. The two men smiled at Sasha as she stood and excused herself.

"I'm real sorry about that, sir. Not exactly the kind of first impression ya want your boss to be havin' about ya," Rick said ashamedly. "And if ya need to let me go, I'll completely understand."

"I guess that depends. Will this kinda thing be happenin' again?" he asked, his sternness showing through in his tone.

"No sir, absolutely not."

"Beth and Michonne told me what happened. I don't condone usin' fists to solve problems, but Daryl said it was his fault. Just be sure ta use your words next time. Otherwise, I'll have ta suspend or transfer ya somewhere else."

"Won't happen again. You have my word on that," Rick said firmly. _Daryl took the blame?_ Didn't matter, he couldn't think about the man right now.

"Alright Rick, go put some ice on that hand," Hershel said as he turned around and headed for Merle's office.

"Thank you, sir," Rick hollered after him.

Daryl and Merle hushed their whispering when he walked in. Merle kept asking what had gotten into him, and for once, he had no idea what to say. "Are ya gonna fire us, Chief?" Daryl asked, biting at his thumb nervously on the side of his mouth that wasn't throbbing.

"No, not this time. Beth and Michonne gave me their account of events. I also had a talk with Rick about his behavior. I suggest you apologize, Daryl. And if I hear about something like this happenin' again, in or outside the house, I'll transfer the both of ya, understood?" Hershel threatened.

"Yes, sir," Merle and Daryl both said.

"Do ya need me to stick around or can ya handle your house, Captain?" Hershel ask with a dry sarcasm.

"No, sir. Daryl's gonna go apologize and I'll take it from there. Unless ya need a chaperon for that, li'l brother."

Daryl shook his head and sulked out like a child that was just scolded, and he supposed that was appropriate. "I'll see ya next month on 'Red' shift, then," he heard Hershel say to Merle.

Daryl wasn't exactly the apologizing kind, but there was no point in dwelling on it, might as well rip off the bandaid quick. He had no idea what he was going to say, but he was fairly certain that a simple 'sorry' wasn't going to cut it. He had, after all, delivered a pretty low blow about the man's dead wife. 

While he was searching the house for Rick, so he could actually apologize as opposed to waiting for it to blow over like all their previous head-on collisions, Rick was in Merle's office trying his best not to lose his resolve.

"I want on another shift," Rick demanded. It was the right call. He couldn't work with Daryl anymore. The man was making him crazy, screwing with his head. He was all confused, kept dreaming about him. It didn't make any sense. 

"Oh come on now, Rick. He knew he crossed the line, and he'll apologize for it. Everything was runnin' smoothly before, just another bump in the road is all," Merle said.

"Switch my shift or I'll put in for a transfer," he said calmly.

"Ya ain't gotta do that, okay? Let me see what I can do," Merle said. He really didn't want to do anything. He liked the shifts as is, and he knew Rick and Daryl got along better than they let on. Well, he thought they did. Maybe he was wrong.

"I'll do what I need to do," Rick insisted.

"Alright, I'll talk with some of the guys on the other shifts and see if anyone is willin' ta trade," Merle conceded. He wasn't sure if that was a lie or not. He was definitely going to put it off and hope the whole thing resolved itself. But if Rick kept pushing, he might actually have to do it.

"Then put me on Engine and him back on Truck. I don't want him holdin' anything else over my head," he said.

"Ya sure?" Merle asked, brows knitted together in a mix of confusion and surprise.

"Yeah, I'm fuckin' sure, Merle!" He didn't want to give up his spot, but he was done. With Daryl, with their fucked up rivalry, with everything.

"Why don'cha take the rest of the day off. I'll call in a probie for the rest of your shift. And we'll talk after you've had some time ta clear yer head."

"Yeah," Rick said as he turned to leave. 

"Couldn't find—" Daryl said, nearly running into him. They avoided each other's gaze and Daryl didn't like that one bit! "Rick, I'm sorry for what I said, okay? I crossed a damn line and I know it. Ya had every right ta hit me." His heart was thudding harder in his chest waiting for a reply than it was when he was getting punched. 

"'S fine Daryl," Rick said as he sidestepped him.

"No, it ain't fine!" Daryl insisted. It wasn't, they both knew that, but what else was he supposed to say? "I just overreacted, I guess," he said, trying to keep up with Rick who practically ran up the stairs two at a time. "Everyone's protective of Beth."

"It's fine, I get it," Rick said calmly over his shoulder before disappearing into the locker room to change. He didn't get it. He got some of it.

Daryl thought about following him and locking them inside until they hashed everything out, but he had no idea what they were supposed to be hashing out. Instead he leaned up against the wall. He already apologized, but it didn't feel like it was good enough. He tried dammit! Wasn't his fault if Rick blew it off. Maybe it was. Maybe the man just needed some time or space. 

He had never been in a fight with anyone but Merle or some drunks at the bar when he was younger. But he never needed to apologize to his brother, to someone he cared about. He did care about Rick. He could admit that now because they were going to be friends, were about to be. Did he just mess it up? Fuck! He did. He just screwed everything up. 

And why was that? Because he was jealous. Of Beth. 

What did that mean? He shook his head and pushed off the wall heading back down to Merle's office. Maybe his brother could tell him what to say. He doubted it. Merle was worse with words than he was.

Inside the locker room, Rick changed into his street clothes and gathered his things. He walked back through the living area where most everyone had gathered after Hershel left and was careful to avoid everyone's eyes. He felt bad for ignoring their pleas of 'Rick?' and 'Where ya goin', brother?' but he just had to get out of there.

He inwardly cringed when he heard Daryl call his name from Merle's office as he walked by because it sounding so fucking good in his ears and that didn't make any sense at all. He just split the guy's lip open. He needed to leave and get his head together. He didn't know what he was feeling or what he should feel. He was confused. Daryl just....he was just so fucking confused.

"Where's he goin'?" Daryl asked Merle. "He quit?" Why was he so worried about Rick leaving? Hadn't that been his goddamn master plan since the beginning? He didn't like it, didn't want him to gone. Not now, not anymore. He bit at his thumb as he waited for Merle to answer, but he just stared back at him blankly.

"He wants me ta switch shifts or transfer him," Merle finally answered after what felt like hours of silence.

"I said I was sorry! Why the fuck's he bein' such a pussy 'bout it?" _Why the fuck's he givin' up now?_ Rick had so many chances to walk away but he waited until they were actually getting along to go? Didn't make sense. Of course, he did just falsely accuse him of hitting on someone underage and disgracing his wife's memory.

"Told 'im I'd look into it. In the mean time, yer back on Truck. Welcome back, baby brother," Merle said dryly, clearly not happy with the situation either.

"Wha'cha mean I'm back on Truck?" he eyed him skeptically.

"Said he wanted to give ya somethin' for being the nicest guy in tha whole world. The fuck ya think I meant? He don't want ya havin' anythin' else ya could hold over his head, and from the shit you've been givin' him since he arrived, can't say I don't understand that one."

Daryl just huffed. The whole thing was a hollow victory. It didn't even feel like a victory at all. "But he's comin' back, right? I didn't mean it," Daryl said, almost pleading. "He can stay on Truck. I don't mind. I like workin' with Tara and Morgan and Ty." It was true, he was getting used to it.

"I don't know, Daryl. Never dealt with a pissed off Rick Grimes before. Jus' leave 'im be for awhile 's all I can say. Give 'im space. That was, shit Darlina, that was low brother."

"It just came out. I don't know what got inta me. Just thought he was hittin' on Beth. He was smilin' at her and—"

"Christ Daryl, his son goes ta school with the girl! Is he not allowed ta smile at anyone? Yer actin' like a jealous bitch," Merle sighed. "Alright, I got someone from 'Red' comin' in for the rest of the shift. Don't run 'im off! Might need to sweet talk someone inta switchin' shifts."

Yeah, Daryl knew it, he was such a fucking idiot. Luckily, he didn't get a lot of time to dwell on that before the alarm blared overhead. He headed to his gear but was stopped when Maggie only called for Truck and the ambulance. Then, he remembered he was back on Truck and continued on.

He refused to make eye contact with anyone as he climbed in the rig. Maggie's voice rang out over the radio as they pulled out, _"Two car collision with a house, 24512 Willow Court."_

"That's right down the street," T-Dog said. "En route. Be there in thirty seconds," he radioed back.

_"One's a...,"_ her voice was hesitant before she continued, _"...green jeep...I-I think it might be Rick's."_

Daryl's heart leaped up into his throat. It just wasn't their fucking day....


	12. Bad Fuckin' Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys realize some things.

Rick felt like it was his punishment. He felt like he deserved it for cheating on Lori, for thinking about someone else, for subconsciously wanting someone else, for liking someone else. He liked Daryl, he did, but he wasn't supposed to. He wasn't supposed to like anyone. After thirty years with Lori, he didn't even know how to like anyone else, to love anyone else, to be with anyone else. Fuck, to be attracted to anyone else.

The man part was a little weird, but he was an openminded kind of guy. That part could be dealt with. Maybe. Love was love. But it was _Daryl,_ the man who forced him to shave his head, who slipped laxatives in his coffee once, who punched him in the face in front of Carl, who vowed to make his life a living hell for the first three months they had known each other.

How did that make sense? 

It didn't.

So, when he saw the truck speeding up in his rearview, when he saw the front end swerving wildly, the telltale signs of a drunk driver, when he saw the crash flash before his eyes, he froze. He let it happen the way he knew it would play out without altering his course—not that there was much to be done—because it was his punishment. 

It wasn't like it was going to kill him. They were driving down a residential road after all. But it still hurt like a bitch when the guy punched the gas, clipped him, and sent his jeep barreling through some old lady's bedroom wall. He sat there for a minute, stunned, before slowly and carefully backing out of the house and taking some of it with him.

He instinctively went into first responder mode after putting his jeep into park. Luckily, no one was in the bedroom he just made into a drive-thru. The owner came out screaming while a neighbor tried to calm her down. There were a few witnesses on cell phones, so he didn't bother dialing 9-1-1. He could already hear the sirens anyway....

 _Shit!_ He knew who was coming.

All that was left was the driver of the other vehicle, the asshole who ran him off the road, who could've killed whoever had been in the house or walking down the sidewalk. The drunk bastard who cared not of anyone's life he could've potentially ended thanks to his vice of choice. Just like the bastard that took his wife, his daughter.

He stormed over to the rusty old Ford. He tried to open the door but it was locked. He banged on the window, but the bastard was passed out drunk and didn't hear him, didn't even flinch. He'd be lucky if he was dead because Rick was going to bust in the window and drag the son of a bitch out by the hair! He was blinded by the rage inside him bubbling up to the surface.

And yes, he was well aware that some of that rage was directed at himself, not just the drunk bastard he wanted to punch in the face, yet-to-scab knuckles irrelevant.

Why'd Daryl have to say anything to him? Fuck! This whole thing was _his_ fault. His fault Rick was hyped up on adrenaline and survivor's guilt, his fault he had to leave work early, his fault he needed to pay penance, _his_ fault. His goddamn eyes, his lips and his jawline. And goddammit those arms! Goddamn Daryl Fucking Dixon!!

He didn't even realize he had the crowbar in his hand until he heard it clatter to the ground. He thought he heard Shane and T-Dog, but their voices were faint. His yells were louder as he demanded to be let go. Then, Daryl's face appeared in front of him and he lunged, eyes clouded with fury. 

They had a death grip on each other's shoulders keeping the other at arms length, fingers and blunt nails digging into sinew and flesh, into knots and kinks. He wanted to fucking hit that guy. Again! Wanted to kiss him too! What the fuck was going on here?!

"Let 'im go," he heard Daryl yelling.

"What? So he can kick your ass again?" Shane hollered back. "No way! We jus' need ta get through ta him. That dickhead over there is bombed out of his mind. Rick's prolly jus' havin' another episode or somethin'."

"Lemme go!" Rick bellowed as he struggled to break free. It wasn't a stupid 'episode', he was just pissed! It just wasn't his fucking day. 

"If he needs ta kick someone's ass, better it be mine. 'S my fuckin' fault anyway," Daryl said.

Shane scoffed before releasing his hold on Rick, T-Dog eventually doing the same. The change in force sent the two stumbling down the road a ways until Daryl tripped on a curb and went falling into someone's yard, Rick tumbling after, knocking the wind out of them both when he landed hard on top of him.

"We're fine," Daryl assured everyone. Rick rolled off him and onto the grass, his hands covering his face as he moaned and groaned with frustration. "Just ain't our day," he muttered under his breath.

It really was his fault. All of it. Daryl knew it. Hell, everyone knew it. The fight at the firehouse, Rick stomping out, probably even the accident somehow. Rick was clearly upset and must not've been paying attention, and that was certainly on him.

So Daryl sucked up his pride and said as much. "'S all my fault," he admitted. "'M sorry man...for all of it. For your hair, for bein' an ass, for tryin' ta run ya off, for not givin' ya a chance. For messin' everythin' up, for pissin' ya off...for, shit, for accusing you of somethin' like that...I was just bein' a giant dick. Ain't got no other excuse."

Rick didn't want an apology, didn't want to forgive him, didn't want to be his friend. He needed to be his enemy, needed to hate him, needed Daryl to hate him back. That was safer, he was safer that way. Everything was safer that way. It wasn't confusing when they were arch rivals, arch nemeses, arch enemies.

This? This was confusing. He was out of his depths here. He didn't like it at all, didn't want it, didn't want to be there. He had to push it down, had to get away from it. Whatever was trying to surface was too much. Best to snuff it out now before it took hold. 

It wasn't like Daryl would reciprocate. _Shit!_ Nothing to reciprocate. Not friendship, not anything!

Rick sat up and wrapped his forearms around his knees. After a few deep breaths, he spoke. "Look Daryl, I thought we could be friends, but I was obviously wrong. So let's just keep our heads down and stay out of each other's way. Won't be long till Merle gets me moved somewhere else and we never have ta see each other ever again." 

"Fine by me!" Daryl snapped. _No, not fine! Not fine at all!_ Rick was supposed to...but he...he said he was sorry. "No! It's not fuckin' fine," he barked as he sat up. "Goddammit, you Asshole! I just fuckin' apologized and you're gonna run away now? After everythin'? Guess that's what you do, huh? Run away?"

Why couldn't Daryl stop pressing the man's buttons? He knew exactly what he was implying with that barb, that Rick had tried to run away from his problems after his wife died, and that just wasn't fair. It sure as shit wasn't fair to be jealous of the dead either. Shit, he was a total ass! 

"Don't you fuckin' tell me what I do! You don't know me! You don't know anythin' about me. You've wanted me gone everyday for the past four months, so ya don't get ta be mad when I'm finally leavin' 'cause that's what ya fuckin' wanted all along!" Rick howled as he stood up.

"You don't fuckin' tell _me_ what to do!" Daryl shot back as he stood up and stepped into Rick's personal space. "I can be mad if I damn well wanna be. And maybe I want ya around now! Ever thought o' that?" _'Cause I fuckin' do!_

"Ya just don't want everyone mad at ya for finally gettin' what ya wanted! Just wanna find more ways ta torture me!"

"So?" Daryl said with a scowl. That was so far off base that he almost had to laugh. Torture with pleasure maybe. _Would ya get ahold o' your horny self, ya dumbass!_ Maybe Rick should leave. He had a bad feeling that if he didn't, he might end up really making a fool out of himself. 

"Yeah, well go find someone else ta play with, _Darlin',_ 'cause I'm done. I'm done with all your shit," Rick snarled with an insincere smile. _Holy hell! Why is this so fucking hot?_ he absolutely tried not to think. 

"I told ya ta stop tellin' me what ta do, Grimes! And ya ain't done till I say yer done," he bit back with the same insincere smile as Rick. 

"Y'know what? I might stay after all just so I can find more ways to piss you off!"

"Yeah, Asshole? Well, this round goes ta me then 'cause I want you ta stay," he said smugly. _Goddammit, Dixon! Stop fuckin' lookin' at his lips!!_

"Ya won't for long! I'll make sure of that," Rick said, voice going low and quite terrifying. 

And maybe thrilling, if the tingling feeling that shot through Daryl's whole body was anything to go by. He could feel the words as Rick spoke them, the little pockets of air wafting over his lips. He absolutely in no way was thinking about kissing the man in that moment, but that was probably because most of the blood in his brain was trying very hard to migrate south in hopes of a small nuclear winter.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," asked a voice to the side of them.

"WHAT?!" they both yelled as they turned their heads.

"Shit, sorry officer. Bad fuckin' day," Rick grumbled, running his hands over his face. 

"I can see that. Just need a statement from you. The witnesses said it was the driver of the truck's fault, and the man is clearly drunk, but we still need your side of things for the police report. I imagine his day's gonna be worse than yours by the end of it."

"Silver linin', I suppose," Rick said with a mirthless chuckle. He gave his statement to the police officer while Daryl went back over to help with the clean up, which was mostly boarding up the house and checking for structural damage.

Rick could feel eyes on him the whole time along with the strange sense of calm he got from Daryl's hard scowl. It was familiar, he knew what to do with that. Unlike the softening steel blue gaze that had started taking over in the last few weeks.

His jeep ended up having to be towed away, and instead of accepting a ride to the firehouse, his stubborn ass walked the half a mile back. The idea of being stuck in the truck even for a minute with Daryl was just too daunting. He was also hoping it would help clear his head, but it didn't. 

Carol came and picked him up after she got Carl and Sophia from school. Both teens had demanded to go through the house to tell everyone hello. Rick leaned on Carol's car as he waited. His skin was crawling too much to be inside, to be near Daryl.

He really did not understand what had been happening since Daryl came back to work. In less than a month, he'd been beaten up by the guy, flirted with him, held his hand, had a few wet dreams in which he starred, and kicked his ass all while calling him 'Darling'. And Daryl hadn't objected to any of it, he was complicit, compliant in everything. Okay, maybe not the dreams....

Did that mean Daryl liked him, too? Or was it all just a trick to get him to let his guard down, to screw him over and get him fired today of all days? With Hershel in the house? Had he planned the whole thing? Was the 'I want you to stay', just reverse psychology to get him to leave?

Rick took a deep cleansing breath. Maybe he shouldn't go that far. Daryl's apology, both of them, sounded genuine enough. It didn't help that he was so terrible at this, at liking someone, at having a, goddammit, a crush. Hell, he was fairly certain that he'd never had a crush on anyone but Lori. 

Until now.

He had a crush on Daryl. 

No point denying it. 

It was blatantly obvious to his idiot brain when he finally looked at all the pieces. The dreams and the craving for his attention—no matter how negative it was—the longing when he was gone, the green-eyed monster that reared its ugly head at the bar.

How did that even happen? And what the hell was he supposed to do about it? 

He didn't think Daryl was gay. Of course, he didn't think he was either, but that wasn't as pressing as the fact that it was _Daryl._ The man whose face he had just beaten to a pulp. The man he spent the last four months or so arguing with, annoying, and literally fighting. In what universe did that make sense? What the hell was that? Foreplay?

It could be some sort of phase or midlife crisis he was going through. He never had any sort of experimental period in his life. It was possible that Daryl just made him curious. There was something fascinating about the man that kept drawing Rick to him, some pull he had on him, and Rick knew better than to believe it was just the conflict he was seeking.

Perhaps his brain was just confused or overcompensating. Since he felt too guilty to—more like had no desire to—date a woman, maybe it decided to make a fool out of him by latching onto Daryl. He was a fiercely loyal and faithful man and husband; for all he knew Lori may've ruined him for all women. 

So? What? He was just going to turn gay now? He was pretty sure that's not how it worked, but what else made sense? 

He was always of the opinion that you couldn't help who you fell in love with or who you were attracted to, but he was almost overwhelmed with not only the fact that he just realized he had some sort of feelings for someone other than Lori, but also that they were for a man.

It wasn't like Daryl wasn't an attractive guy. Rick could admit that he was. The younger man was strong and lean, and his deep, stormy sea blue eyes were easy to get lost in even when they were hardened and narrowed into a scowl. Rick certainly couldn't complain about getting to stare into them incessantly. 

But was _he_ attracted to him? His cock seemed to think so, but that may've been the fact he hadn't had sex in nearly two years. He was beginning to fear that a strong enough gust of window would be all it took to make him cream his pants. Then again, that could be Daryl, too.

Thankfully, Carol and the kids rescued him from his musings when they came out of the house. Carl came rushing up demanding an explanation for the fight that he heard about but no one would elaborate on. Rick just told him that there was a misunderstanding involving Beth and that things had been cleared up. He didn't want Carl hating the guy.

He was restless for the rest of the day as just about every encounter he ever had with Daryl played on repeat in his head. It was like he was trying to decode the great secretes of the universe, but there was a reason he was a firefighter and not a philosopher.

How was he supposed to work with Daryl now? Were things going to go back to how they were in beginning when they actually disliked one another? He never disliked Daryl, though. Maybe that should've been his first clue.

Was he supposed to just forget the way Daryl's hand felt in his? The hand with just the right amount of rough callouses, the way its fingers interlocked with his so perfectly, how the contact made his pulse jump to life for the first time in a long time that wasn't caused by running into a burning building.

Would he even be able to forget that? Or how the urge to kiss him had almost drowned out his desire to punch him when Daryl got in his face? He had never thought about kissing a man before. He may have wondered what it would've been like to kiss another woman once or twice, but he'd never had a nagging compulsion to do so, not like he did when Daryl was so close they were sharing the same air.

But the thoughts that flooded his mind as he tossed and turned while he tried to fall asleep that night were of what Daryl thought about the whole mess they found themselves in. He was certain that the man couldn't feel the same way he was feeling because he wasn't even sure what that was.

It may very well be that his body was just lusting after the object that had been the main focus of his life for the past several months. Once things settled back down, when the adrenaline wore off, it would probably go away on its own. Once they went back to 'not friends' everything would be just fine. Probably.

But did he really want that?

***

Daryl's actual thoughts on the matter consisted of him berating himself for screwing things up again. They had finally found a place to not only coexist but to actually get along, and he shit all over it because he was jealous of a seventeen year old. It wasn't like Rick was even interested in Beth. Michonne was right, he was just a nice guy.

It wasn't like Rick was interested in him either. How could he be with the amount of crap he'd put him through? Daryl Dixon wasn't gay, and he didn't think he was bisexual; he was probably just confused. Rick confused the hell out of him, since the beginning even. He was the only person other than Merle who didn't put up with his bullshit, so of course that made him intriguing. But was it more than that?

Of course it was! He knew it was. Maybe he'd even known it from the beginning, since the first time he saw the man. Maybe that's why he tried so hard not to like him, to run him off as quickly as he could. Because he was afraid, afraid that the second he had looked into Rick's hopelessly blue eyes that he was done.

That was a scary thing to admit. He was a straight guy for all he knew, Rick was too, but he found himself being drawn to his bright eyes and his sharp wit. The fact that Rick pushed back only made it worse, made their connection stronger, because he had to push back even harder until the truth finally smacked him right in the face, the revelation that he didn't hate the guy after all.

And now it seemed that his body was catching up to what his brain had tried to deny. Rick's body was also catching the attention of said brain, and that attention was morphing into an attraction that he wasn't sure what to do with.

Rick was from Small Town, Georgia, USA. Confessing, letting on that he had a crush on him would surely sending him running just when he realized that he didn't want him gone. He didn't know who else would run if he confessed that he had feelings for another man. Everyone in the house loved and accepted Tara who was a lesbian, but would it be different for him?

He kind of had the urge to find her and ask her all the things that were running through his head, but he knew that would totally give him away, and he wasn't sure that he was ready for anyone to know, wasn't sure he'd ever be ready because he really wasn't sure exactly what there was to know.

He let out a deep sigh as he rolled over on his bunk. He needed to stop thinking so hard. There really was no point in worrying himself sick about it. His weird feelings would either go away or he'd freak Rick out and he'd run away. But for the time being, Rick wasn't going anywhere and neither was he. Besides, things usually had a way of working themselves out.


	13. Established Dynamic and Cohesive Nature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Daryl miss each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is my first attempt at writing Eugene, which was fun even though that part is super short, and also Pete and Jessie whom, for obvious reasons, are not my favs. Well, the latter, creepy Pete was kinda fun to write!
> 
> Enjoy!

Daryl was so nervous on his way to work for his next shift that his hands were shaking on the handlebars of his bike. He tried to blame it on the vibrations from the road, but that was a flat out lie. He pulled into his usual spot, next to the still-empty spot Rick usually parked in, and headed inside.

He had no idea how things were going to play out with Rick today. He'd spent the last two days running through various scenarios in his head. Maybe Rick would want to pretend that nothing happened. That was the best case scenario; the worst was that he wouldn't show up at all.

He went upstairs without a word to Merle, which was unusual, but he had a feeling his brother was still a little irate with him for messing things up. After he changed, he headed to the coffee machine. Maggie gave him a soft smile as she passed, but he suspected that everyone else was trying to give him some breathing room.

At least that's what he thought until Eugene walked in. 

That's when his stomach lurched and fell out. 

But Rick said he wasn't leaving!

"What the hell are ya doin' here?" Daryl snarled at him. The other man flinched in shock, and with that, his transformation into a total dick was complete.

"I apologize for any inconvenience my presence may inflict on the established dynamic and cohesive nature of this shift, but the hell I am doing is a necessary and direct consequence of your hormone-infused altercation with our brethren, and to most with faculties higher than a common primate, would appear to be self-evident," Eugene replied nervously.

"English Eugene! For fuck's sake! And did you just call me a monkey?" he scowled.

"No sir, I did not because it is my firmly held belief that you know why the hell I am here."

Daryl just stared at him blankly for a second. Eugene was nice but weird, especially when he got nervous, and he was glad the man would be away from him on Engine. But he was right, Daryl knew why he was there. He knew the second he saw him that Rick wasn't coming back.

Without a second thought, he stormed down to Merle's office and slammed the door shut behind him. "Where is he?" he demanded more than asked as he smashed his hands down on the big oak desk.

"Who, baby brother? Eugene? Well, I believe he's upstairs," Merle drawled, knowing exactly who he was talking about but twisting the knife a little. "Gonna run 'im off, too? Huh? Didn't realize how good ya were at that. Ol' Merle's impressed."

"I apologized more than once and he said he was gonna stay," Daryl said, his nails digging into the wood, knuckles going white from the pressure he was exerting on the desk.

Merle regarded him for a long moment. He was having the hardest time trying to figure those two out. Daryl looked genuinely remorseful, almost too much so, but against his better brotherly judgement, he decided to let him off the hook he had impaled himself on. 

"Just needed another day. Should be back on Tuesday. Now, I don't know what the hell's gotten yer head so screwed up since he's come 'round, 'cause he's been nothin' but nice, plus he's a damn good firefighter, but ya need ta stow yer shit because I need everyone's head in the game here! We got a goddamn arsonist that I'm startin' ta think may be targeting this house, maybe even this damn shift. So I need everyone at a hundred and ten percent or we're gonna end up getting fucked! So. Get. Yer. Shit. Together. Baby. Brother."

Daryl spun around and stormed out. He very much had to get his shit together, but he felt a lot better knowing that Rick was supposed to come back next shift. Maybe he could get his address from Merle or Carol and go see him tomorrow to apologize again. Would that help or would it make him look desperate? 

His first full shift back on Truck was miserable. It was a gloomy, stormy day, which was quite appropriate for his mood, and they'd had several accident calls back to back to back that were exhausting. They were all happy when lights out came along, but he had a feeling the night was going to be just as bad when the forecast called for a second round of storms to roll through after midnight.

No one would admit it, but he knew everyone missed Rick, especially the guys on Truck. They didn't treat him any differently, but he saw disapproval in their eyes and he hated it. The silent judgement was more like a reminder of how he might've lost something he didn't even know he had or even wanted.

And now, all he could do was think about Rick as impossible thoughts flooded his brain. Did Rick liked him back? Should he have kissed him when he wanted to instead of yelling at him? What if he never got to kiss him? What if the Asshole still left him? What if Rick never smiled at him again? What if he screwed it all up?

He was thankful he didn't have much time to dwell on those questions due to the over abundance of calls, but the knowledge of Rick's absence was almost debilitating. Glenn slipped up once and accidentally called him 'Rick'. For a split second he was hoping that when he turned around he'd see the other man standing there, but he didn't.

The worst part was how well Tara was getting along with Eugene on Engine. That was _Rick's_ spot now and he had the strong urge to run Eugene off to protect it, but Merle's nagging words bouncing around in his head stopped him from making anymore stupid mistakes.

He was the first one to leave at end of shift which was unusual because he was always the last. When Merle had left for the night, he had snuck in his office and dug through his files for Rick's address. His plan was to go home, take a nap, and then head over to apologize to make sure he was coming back. 

While he was resting up from the shift from hell, Rick was tending to his usual handyman duties. He changed a few burnt out bulbs in the hallways before fixing the fence to the pool. Conveniently, Milly's garbage disposal was busted again. He was starting to think she put the bones of her former lovers in there. That or spoons.

Jessie from 2B caught his attention as he was leaving her apartment. "Hey Rick, sorry to bother you again, but the sink is leaking...again."

"Was Pete messin' with it?" he chuckled. He hadn't met the woman's husband yet, but he'd been called in a few times to repair things he had tried to fix only to fuck them up even more.

"I told him to call you, but you know how testosterone is," she smiled, making eyes at his bandaged hand.

"Been havin' a bit of trouble with that myself lately. Let me just go grab my tools and I'll meet ya there."

"Sure thing. I'll leave the door open," she replied before turning to make her way back to her unit.

Rick knocked on her open door a few minutes later with a red toolbox in his hand. After switching out a mangled washer—courtesy of Pete—Jessie offered him a glass of lemonade. He politely accepted and they made their way to the patio. 

Most of the women in the building offered him the same southern hospitality, and he gladly accepted it because it reminded him of back home where everyone was a little more friendly than people in the big city. He also thought it'd be rude to turn down an innocent invitation for a beverage, even though he knew half the women were secretly hoping it'd turn into more. 

Jessie was nice and all—hell, she may have even been interested, not that he would've noticed. Perhaps in another lifetime, another universe, he would've been attracted to her, but how could be he when all he saw when he closed his eyes were hard lines as opposed to soft curves?

He was more than grateful for the distraction from his thoughts, though. Him and Jessie spent a good half hour swapping horror stories about raising teenaged sons. Her oldest boy had befriended Carl and Patrick, and they had been starting to spend more and more time playing video games and swapping comics with each other. 

It was nice to have someone else to run to on such matters besides Morgan. He didn't want to bore the man to death about things, and being a single parent, he needed all the support he could get. Of course, thoughts of Morgan turned into thoughts about being put on Engine with him, which he didn't mind, but those led to thoughts about why he was on Engine, which in turn led him back to thoughts of Daryl.

He knew he had been a coward for calling in sick the day before, or taking a 'mental health' day as Merle kept calling it over the phone, but he just needed more time to think. Although, it was a bit ironic that all he'd been trying to do all day was run away from those thoughts.

He sunk into a semi-daydream state while Jessie went on about some new comic the boys were into. He wondered how Daryl's day had gone without him, whether or not the man had thought about him, or missed him even. Glenn had texted him earlier and said they had a pretty shit shift and called him a jerk for not being there to help out, but Maggie made him apologize.

He was happy his friend had someone to help him decompress after a hard shift, but that just sent him off on tangents about whether or not Daryl had someone like that or wanted someone like that, and how pretty she probably was or would be.

"Are you okay, Rick?" Jessie asked, forcing him from thoughts of Daryl.

"Just havin' a rough couple of days," he replied, giving her a soft yet forced smile.

She gently placed her hand over his and gave a small squeeze. "If you ever need anything, help with Carl, someone to listen, you just let me know, okay? I can just break something else and call you over," she snickered.

He wasn't sure if that was flirting or not, but he had to pull his hand away because the only person he wanted holding it was Daryl. He didn't want it tainted by anyone else. Abruptly, he stood and excused himself saying he needed to get back to work as he walked back through her apartment to the door. 

And maybe if Daryl had waited a few seconds longer before storming back around the corner to his bike, he would've seen Rick's exit and wouldn't have been so angry about seeing him holding hands with some 'hussy'. 

Daryl hadn't meant to spy on him. If you could call it that, they were out in the open. He had just went over to apologize again, maybe talk things out, maybe kiss him and run away like a girl did to him on the playground once, but when he walked around the building, there was Rick, sitting on some strange woman's patio having drinks as she smiled pretty with her goddamned dreamy eyes fixated on him, lips pursed and lashes batting faster than a hummingbird's wings.

That's when things went hazy in his fury and he stumbled back to his bike before speeding away.

How he ended up at the bar, he wasn't sure because he didn't even remember leaving Rick's apartment. All that mattered was that he was there now and he would soon be so fucking shitfaced that he wouldn't be able to remember his name for a week, let alone Rick's. And if he just happened to take a girl home, then at least no one could call him a fag.

Rick, on the other hand, was still stuck inside Jessie's apartment. He had picked up his tools and reached for the knob only to have the door swing towards him unexpectedly. His initial shock of that was replaced by the shock of coming face to face with the tall, imposing photographer who had taking pictures of him a few weeks prior.

"You must be Rick?" Pete grinned that same wiry grin he had flashed him on his last arson call. Rick nodded his answer.

"Pete? What are you doing home so early?" Jessie asked from behind him. 

"Just need to get my flash drive with the pictures of that arson for the police. You were working that weren't you, Rick?" he asked him. "Thought I recognized you."

"Yeah, that was us," Rick answered as they studied each other intently. This guy could be their arsonist, and he was standing in the middle of the man's apartment. 

Rick already surmised that his shift in particular was being targeted. The fires were too neat and deliberate for it to be a coincidence that they caught all the calls. Maybe Pete got the wrong idea about him and Jessie and was targeting him after the two of them had struck up an easy friendship.

"Must be tough...with the kids and all. Don't know how you first responders do it day in and day out."

"Just part of the job," Rick replied. "Are ya a reporter?"

"Surgeon by day. I just do some freelance photography in my spare time here and there. Used to be a photography major. That's how I met Jessie," he said as he walked over to her and wrapped an arm around her. "It was more of a hobby now, but I've been doing more and more things for the local papers lately. A friend tipped me off to the arsons and I've been keeping my scanner close by."

 _Or maybe he's just a photographer, Grimes,_ Rick chided himself. "Ya mind gettin' me a copy of those pictures? It might help me and the crew keep a lookout for the guy," he suggested.

"Sure, no problem. Let me just go copy them," Pete said. He gave Jessie a kiss on the cheek and walked down the hall.

"His pictures are beautiful," Jessie said, filling the uncomfortable silence that had descended upon them.

"Think he took some of me," Rick mumbled back.

"Most likely...he's good at capturing emotion and said he wanted to feature the heroes and not the person causing all this mess."

"It is a mess, isn't?" Pete said, shaking his head as he reentered the living room. "Here you go. I went ahead and put the pictures from the other fire I worked, too. Just in case."

"Thanks, Pete," Rick said, holding out his hand to take the storage device. Pete gave him a smile that twisted his stomach in all the wrong ways. He had to get out of there.

"Speaking of messes, I hope I didn't create a bigger one for you in the kitchen," Pete chuckled.

"Nothin' I couldn't handle...well, I should be goin'. Carl will be home soon and I still have some bulbs to replace out back."

"See you around, Rick."

"Be careful out there," Jessie smiled.

"I will. Let me know if that sink acts up again," he replied before turning to leave.

*****

Rick spent several hours that evening looking through the photos on the flash drive Pete had given him. The first several times he flipped through them, everyone looked familiar, but after the fourth or fifth time, they started to blur into one. Then, he tried to cross reference pictures from the first fire to the next. He got nowhere with that.

The problem was that there were a lot of people in both sets. That was to be expected since both fires were on the same street in the same neighborhood. They really needed a set from a fire in a different vicinity to compare. Sadly, he had a feeling that might happen sooner than he'd like.

He wondered if Pete would be considered a person of interest since he was at both scenes. His press pass probably got him excluded, and from the arson reports he saw on Merle's desk, the arsonist might've had some sort of firefighter training, which he doubted Pete had. Of course, these days it was amazing what you could learn on the internet.

None of the witnesses got a good look at the arsonist. He wore a mask and usually used a blitz attack on the husbands or grabbed a kid to use as a hostage. He'd force them upstairs at gunpoint and tie them up before going back downstairs and setting off the fires. They knew he used gasoline as an accelerant and had used the victims' phones to call in the fires in a few cases, using the children to talk to dispatch. 

Other than that, the man was a ghost. The only description they had was that he was a white male; that eliminated all the females and minorities in the photos. But essentially they had nothing: no fingerprints, no other forensics, nobody was seen fleeing the scene. They didn't even have a solid confirmation on his hair or eye color. Nothing. 

There was one file on the drive that he hadn't gotten to yet. It was labeled: _First Responders._ There was no point looking for suspects there, but he thought he'd check out the pictures Pete took of him.

The first several in the slide show were of the girls: Michonne, Sasha, and Tara. He wasn't too surprised about that. Then there were random ones of the rest of the guys doing various things: boarding up a window, wrangling the hoses, extending the ladders.

About halfway through, he got to the ones of him sitting on the curb. He looked miserable. He had soot smeared on his cheek, his hair was drenched in sweat, and you could see the emotion of the lose of life on his face, the guilt and anguish. He let out a deep sigh and was about to shut down the laptop for the night when his thumb hit the button.

He was still sitting on the curb, but Daryl was sitting next to him, the heavy flame-retardant fabric of their pants just touching. Daryl was smirking at him sideways and he had a stupid grin on his face, his water bottle raised halfway to his lips. The next one was of Daryl looking at him as his head was tilted back chugging his water, but he couldn't quite make out the other man's expression.

The pictures instantly transported him back in time to that moment. Daryl had just finished up that quip about him breaking the camera, he could still feel the heat radiating off the smoldering remains of the house behind them, and all that solemn emotion was forgotten and replaced with something warm inside him that was slowly working its way up through every single one of his vertebra. 

A similar thing was happening now, but the trickle was not up his spine but up his cock. He frantically slammed the computer shut and stormed out of the kitchen and away from the insidious photos. He contemplated a cold shower, but that hadn't helped the last few times thoughts of Daryl had gotten him all hot and bothered. Instead, he grabbed a load of laundry and went down to the laundry room.

He went to the first machine and groaned as he peered in only to find the thing filled with stagnant water. Making a mental note to have a look at it tomorrow, he went to the next one and threw their clothes in. It was already ten o'clock but he went back in and turned on the tv as a distraction while he did a little house cleaning.

It was about midnight when he finally got to bed. He tossed and turned for about an hour before the steadily increasing pressure in his groin became unbearable. He let out a frustrated grunt as he ran his hand down his chest to palm himself through his thin boxers.

 _I shouldn't be doing this,_ he kept telling himself over and over again. But fuck if he wasn't. He pulled down the waistband of his boxers passed his balls and started to ease his hand up and down his shaft. He let out a low moan when he thumbed over the slit trying not to imagine it was the tip of Daryl's wet tongue. 

He reached into the nightstand and pulled out a small bottle of lube he had bought the day before and a box of tissues. After popping the lid open, he poured a few drops on the head of his cock and slowly worked it down over the rest of his length.

As he sped up his strokes, thanks to the decreased friction, he was no longer able to keep the wall up that separated thoughts of Daryl from the task at hand. He began to wonder what his calloused fingers would feel like on him, on his body, skimming over the skin of his back, down his thighs, around his cock. 

_He'd be rougher,_ he thought as he tightened his grip. He bowed a little off the bed at the heightened pleasure as he thought back to the last dream he had about him, of how real it felt, of how Daryl's dream body had felt on his, how his lips tasted like coffee and chocolate glaze.

He thought about how the muscles in his thighs moved when he was lifting weights, of how they'd flex under his hands as the man thrust into him. He wondered how those arms would feel wrapped around his shoulders, how they'd taste like salt from their exertion as he lapped at a beads of sweat rolling down them.

His breathing shallowed as he stroked himself harder and faster. He imagined how his name would sound on Daryl's lips low in his ear—not 'Asshole' but 'Rick'—how his shaky breath would feel on his neck, how his blue eyes full of heat would look down at him as they came together with a shout at their shared release. 

He gave one last hard pump on his shaft and came on his stomach, a lip caught between his teeth to keep from waking Carl. Then, he laid there for a minute, breathing heavy, his brain embattled with both shame and satisfaction at what he'd just done, before quickly cleaning himself up.

Without much thought, he padded down the hall to the kitchen and opened his laptop so he could print out the pictures of him and Daryl. After retrieving them from the printer, he went back to his bedroom, stuffed them in the back of the drawer of his nightstand, and tried to forget they were there.

"What are you doing?" he asked himself as he crawled back into bed. He looked over at him and Lori's wedding photo. He could just make out the silhouette of her flowing white dress in the dark. It still hurt, her being gone, and he knew it always would, but he was beginning to wonder if there would someday be room on the nightstand for another picture.

*****

Daryl was hungover the next morning. He hadn't picked anyone up at the bar, but that was probably because he ran off all the women he talked to, subconsciously or otherwise. _They just weren't his type,_ he kept telling himself even though he never really had one to begin with. Truth was their eyes just weren't the right shade of hopeless blue.

All day long his thoughts kept going back to Rick and that woman on the patio. He spent way too long trying in vain to overanalyze their body language. He couldn't exactly confront the guy over it. Rick would think he was a weird stalker who was spying on him. Which, at this point, was probably closer to the truth than he'd like to admit.

In the end, he had to let it go because the last thing they needed with another Beth situation on their hands.

He had trouble getting to sleep that night as thoughts of Rick once again flooded his brain. He needed to know if he was coming back to work the next day or not. More like he was going crazy at the possibility that Rick really was done with him like he said. 

It was a little after two AM before he finally worked up enough courage to send him a text. He knew it was way too late to be texting anyone, but he just had to know one way or the other. He took a deep breath as he pushed before he could talk himself out of it for the hundredth time.

_[Daryl]: Hey Asshole, u awake?_

Rick had just fallen asleep having finally chased away his own anxiety about the following day with another guilt-riddled session with his hand when his phone chimed with an incoming text. He picked it up expecting an emergency but couldn't help but smile when he read that it was from _Li'l Darlin'._

_[Rick]: no_

Daryl was the one smiling when Rick texted back almost immediately. He figured that if he was really mad, he wouldn't've bothered. 

_[Daryl]: Almost forgot how much I fucking hate u._

He probably could've started with something a bit more pleasant, but it was late.

_[Rick]: Well I sure didn't, u prick!_

_[Daryl]: Fuck. You._

_[Rick]: It's two in the goddamn morning, can we do this later?_

_[Daryl]: U coming back or what?_

Daryl bit at his thumb and stared intensely at the bright screen in the dark while he waited anxiously for his reply stretched out on his bed. He wondered if Rick was sprawled out on his. He wondered what he was wearing....

_[Rick]: Why, u miss me, Darlin'?_

Daryl knew exactly how that would've sounded if Rick had spoken the words instead of texted them and it set off a flurry of flutters in his chest. 

_[Daryl]: Fuck you!_

It was kind of hard to judge Daryl's tone through texts, but Rick imagined he was saying them with that hard scowl of his as he held back a smirk, his eyes betraying him as they twinkled with something playful. Were they back to flirting?

_[Rick]: U already said that. Can u at least try 2 b original?_

_[Daryl]: Screw. You._

Rick had to laugh at that. He wanted to ask if that was an invitation, but he thought better of it. He didn't want to scare him off, and there was still the very high probability that he was reading things wrong because he was very much an idiot who had no idea what the hell he was doing at this point. 

_[Rick]: Still needs work. Can I go back 2 bed now or did u need something? Another punch in the face, perhaps?_

_[Daryl]: Next time I'm hitting back!_

[Rick]: So am I! Now, would u stop texting me? I gotta go 2 sleep!

_[Daryl]: I aint working w/ Eugene again, so if u aint @ work 2morro, I'll come drag ur ass in!!_

Rick's cock jumped at the thought of Daryl throwing him over his shoulder and carrying him into the station or anywhere really, but work was the last thing they'd be doing when they reached their destination. Shit! Why couldn't he stop thinking about sleeping with the man? And how exactly would that work?

_[Rick]: Didn't know u cared._

_[Daryl]: Aint about u, dick. If I have 2 hear him say "established dynamic and cohesive nature" one more time I'm gonna skin n gut u alive._

Yeah, Rick was pretty sure that was Daryl flirting.

_[Rick]: U miss me! :p_

Of course he did, but Daryl couldn't go admitting to that just yet. Could he? He was in so much trouble.

_[Daryl]: Shut up. No I don't. And if I'm bothering u so much, then y u keep texting me back?_

Daryl waited a few minutes for another text. Every second seemed to stretch on for hours, and with each passing one, his heart fell a little further into his stomach. What if he really was bothering him? Finally, his phone pinged one last time.

_[Rick]: Nite Darlin'._

_[Daryl]: Nite Asshole._

Glad no one was around to see it, Daryl smiled like a giddy schoolgirl until his face was sore. He reread their exchange a hundred times before he finally drifted off to sleep hugging his phone firmly to his chest. Fuck, he was so screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look! I gotz a [tumblr.](http://www.arcticlucie.tumblr.com)


	14. So Fucking Gay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick gets back to work; Daryl tries not to stare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter should come with a shot of insulin because sugary treats abound. Gotta give two shoutouts to Lelia for the bakery idea, which I was too blind to see myself, and lilvixen25 for pointing out that I had completely underutilized a pivotal part of the firehouse...the pole! Thanks you guys and to everyone else who comments or just reads and enjoys this little thang! Ya'll are all so lovely! <3

Rick went in extra early for his shift the next day. He hadn't gotten much sleep, but hopefully he could catch up tomorrow; his late night was worth the extra coffee he'd need today. He didn't know how things would go with Daryl, but after their early morning texting, he was a little less anxious about everything. Even so, he decided to bring him a little 'peace offering'.

His months of loyal patronage at his donut shop allowed him to convince the baker to whip up a special donut just for Daryl. Everyone knew he liked the chocolate ones with rainbow sprinkles, so Rick only bought one today hoping no one would be stupid enough to take it before Daryl could.

"Hey Rick! It's good to have you back, man!" Glenn said as they got out of their vehicles together.

"Good to get back to it. Was a little under the weather," he lied. Glenn knew it was a lie, everyone would, but he was glad he didn't call him on it. He didn't think anyone would.

"Merle forgot to tell Eugene to bring donuts," said the probie, eyeing the donut box.

"How was workin' with him?" Rick asked, thinking back to what Daryl had said about him.

"He works hard, but he is a bit of a strange one. We were glad he was on Engine, but Tara was good with him, so it worked out," he replied as they walked into the house, "Sorry you won't be on Truck anymore. I'm really gonna miss you."

"It ain't like I'm moving away," he chuckled.

"Did anyone tell you about the camping trip next month?"

"Merle mentioned it the other day. Are ya plannin' on goin'?" 

"I was thinking about it. Might be fun. Maggie wants to go."

"It's loads of fun. We go out inta the woods and get drunk for the weekend. Darlina will prolly shoot us some rabbits for stew," Merle said as he passed them in the hallway. "Ya'll should both come. Ever'one should."

Daryl out in the woods was definitely something he didn't want to miss. "Sounds like fun," Rick hollered back to him as he and Glenn started up the stairs. He sat the donuts on the counter and the vultures began to swarm as soon as he opened the box. Everyone welcomed him back as they took a sweet morning pastry on their way by.

Most stayed away from the chocolate donut. Shane reached for it, but Rick cleared his throat and shook his head. Shane gave him a dirty look, but when they heard Daryl's voice filter up the stairs, Rick gave him a wink and a mischievous smile, and he nodded getting the message to back off.

"Hey, Asshole," Daryl sighed, feigning disappointment at seeing him back at work.

"Hey ya crazy bastard! Who the fuck texts someone at two in the goddamn mornin'?!" Rick spat back.

"Who the fuck answers a text at two in the fucking' mornin'?"

Rick rolled his eyes and went to fix himself a cup of coffee. He turned back just in time to watch Daryl sink his teeth into the fluffy chocolate glazed donut. A smile broke wide across his face, partially obstructed by his mug, as he watched Daryl spit the offending bite into his hand. He stuck his tongue out, eyes watering, face turning redder by the second, and started to pant.

"FUCK!" he thundered as he pushed passed Rick. He threw the donut in the sink on his way to the fridge where he grabbed a bottle of water in an attempt to extinguish the sudden burning sensation crippling his tongue. "Back ta fuckin' poisonin' me, Asshole?" he accused after downing half the bottle.

"I don't know what ya mean," Rick replied innocently before taking a sip of his coffee.

"What the hell did ya put in that?" he demanded, his tongue still feeling like acid was eating away at it as sweat accumulated on his brow.

"I didn't put anythin' in it, but I think the donut maker mentioned somethin' about habanero sauce. Musta been a mixup in the back," he chuckled, as did everyone within earshot. "I'll be sure to tell him how much ya liked it ...Darlin'."

"Oh man," Shane snickered, "That shit is h-o-t, HOT!"

"Daryl, water won't help," Michonne said, flashing Rick an amused smile. "Here, try this," she said, handing him a small glass of milk, "It should counteract the capsaicin of the peppers."

Daryl glared at Rick as he took the cup from her hand and drank it. He supposed he deserved a little bit of wrath from the man he had been quite unsuccessful at torturing. It was a pretty good prank, too. But he should probably come up with a way to get him back for symmetry's sake. 

Damn! He had really been looking forward to that donut....

*****

At the morning meeting, Rick gave Merle the flash drive Pete had given him. He suggested that they all have a good look at the photos and to keep an eye out for anyone who looked familiar on their fire calls. Merle relayed the latest report that the police and arson investigation team had sent him, but it was nothing they didn't already know, which was nothing.

The rest of the shift was relatively quiet. Rick familiarized himself with the engine, and Daryl gave him a wide birth in case he needed more time to deal with what happened last week, but mostly it was because he wasn't exactly sure how to act around him at the moment.

What if he said something inappropriate? What if someone caught them flirting? Would Rick flirt back? Would there be flirting, and would they be able to hide it? What if Rick did something insanely cute and he had to throw him up against a wall and kissed the ever living hell out of him? 

People would notice if they went from mortal enemies to being nice to each other so quickly. It was probably best to keep up appearances for the time being. The wise thing to do would be to sit down and talk to Rick about everything, but he couldn't do that. Not until he was a hundred percent certain that Rick liked him back. Maybe not even then. 

How the hell was he supposed to figure out if Rick had feelings for him? Women were so much easier to read; that he had practice with. He'd never had to figure out if a guy liked him before. Oh god! He was so gay for Rick Grimes!

Keeping his distance from Rick turned out to be rather easy; keeping his eyes to himself was the hard part. Every time Rick took a drink or a bite of something, Daryl would be hypnotized by the bob of his Adam's apple, the sweeping curve of his neck, and those soft pink lips of his that were probably illegal in some states.

They sat next to each other at lunch like usual. They flipped each other off before climbing in their rigs on a call like usual. They stared each other down a few times like usual. They traded a few barbs and insults like usual. And the shift mostly went on like business as usual.

What was unusual was the way their eyes were starting to drift lower and lower down each other's bodies in between their staring contests, how they would sparkle a little more when they traded those witty barbs, and the way their hearts picked up speed when they were in close proximity to one another.

And things only got worse when they went out on a late night call. Rick had just gotten in bed, welcoming the possibility of a few hours rest when a call came through. He hit the ground running as he followed Tyreese down the pole to the hanger. 

Daryl was the first to slip into his turnout gear. Once he was suited up, he headed for his rig. His eyes caught sight of Tyreese coming down the pole, and just as he was about to look away, he spotted an all too familiar set of bow legs curled tightly around the metal following after. 

That was the point at which time slowed down. Although, he wanted it to stop altogether.

It was far too reminiscent of a strip club in which a hot, sexy thing slid seductively down a stripper pole, and he wished he had a million one dollar bills to shove down Rick's pants in appreciation when the hem of his shirt broke free of them to expose the tinniest sliver of white skin that had his eyes stuck to it like it was Elmer's glue. It was the right shade and everything.

When time inevitably went back to normal, after Rick's feet were planted firmly on the ground, Daryl ran smack dab into the fucking engine. "Shit!" he cursed, rubbing the soon-to-be knot forming on his forehead.

"What the hell do ya think you're doin' to my baby?" Morgan squawked from behind him. 

"Jus' need some fuckin' coffee," he moaned, ducking his head to hide the flush on his cheeks as the image of Rick sliding down a different pole came to mind. "Fuck!" he said under his breath as he attempted to will away the erection trying to stir up trouble in his pants.

Everyone else slipped into their turnout gear behind him and jumped in their rigs. Rick almost went to the truck but caught his mistake before anyone noticed and shuffled over to the engine.

A short ride later, they pulled up to a small strip mall that housed several small mom and pop restaurants and a bakery that just had a grand opening; the 'Now Open' signs were still waving in the wind. The owner of one of the restaurants said a grease fire had broken out in the kitchen, and the fire had now spread quickly to the unit next door. 

Luckily, there was no one inside so Truck went to work raising the ladders while Engine laid out the hoses. Once they were charged, Rick took point and started moving into the second unit. They needed to get the fire contained, and not just because the bakery was close to catching fire and Rick knew how strong Daryl's sweet tooth was.

The flames were doused twenty minutes later and they got busy with the cleanup and checking for lingering hotspots. It was about that time that the baker brought around a box of chocolate strawberry cupcakes for them as a thank you gift for saving the bakery. 

The man didn't look much like a baker, but if he would've been clean shaven and had an awkwardly growing out buzzcut, Rick might've mistaken him for Daryl. He imagined that's how he'd look all shaggy, hair askew with a scraggly goatee. The baker's boyfriend came out with some coffee for everyone, and Rick supposed the description was quite accurate when he called his lover the 'Redneck Baker'.

Apparently, this was the first expansion location of The Backwoods Bakery in Atlanta and the baker and his boyfriend, whom he only referred to as Officer Hottie, had been working late in the back on some brownies for the next day when they heard yells out front and went running. 

The brownie mix must've 'tipped' over on them in the commotion because they were covered in batter, streaks of chocolate, and maybe something a little more sticky, graffitied their exposed skin. Rick tried not to read into the fact that they look suspiciously like brush strokes and that some of the streaks disappeared into their clothing.

"The baker and his boyfriend are pretty hot," Daryl heard Michonne snickering to Sasha after they treated a man for a small burn on his hand. 

"Officer Hottie kinda looks like Rick if he had hair and a scruffy beard," Sasha replied. 

_Officer Hottie?_ Daryl scoffed to himself. He noticed Rick talking to the two men in question and had to push down the jealous thoughts threatening to swell up inside him. He didn't used to be a jealous man, but then Rick came along and screwed up his head. Regardless, he had to go check out this 'Officer Hottie' for himself.

Sasha wasn't wrong. The man had eyes strikingly similar in shade to Rick's and the two were built the same. Mr. Hottie's hair was a lot longer and his face was obscured by a beard, but he could see a resemblance. The baker must've noticed him staring because he narrowed his eyes at him and wrapped his arm around his boyfriend when he approached.

"Thanks for the cupcakes," he heard Rick saying.

"Ya'll can come by anytime and I'll hook ya up with my Backwater Bonanza. Can't sell 'em 'cause it's mostly just sugar and whiskey, and I didn't think it'd be wise ta get ya'll drunk on the job," the baker smirked.

"His cupcakes'll change yer life," Officer Hottie said. He turned to regard his partner and smiled lovingly, "Changed mine anyway." 

Rick briefly introduced them to Daryl before thanking them once again for the snack. The cop—well, the one Rick assumed was a cop from his nickname—told them both to be safe before quickly ushering the baker back inside.

"What's that?" Daryl asked Rick, motioning to the green camouflage box he was holding when the two were out of view.

"Did ya not get a cupcake, Darlin'?" Rick purred in the sweet tone he knew always pissed Daryl off. Little did he know that it was starting to have the opposite effect.

"Just got off the ladder," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Here," Rick said as he reached in the box and pulled out a cupcake. The wrapper was bright red and it popped against the dark brown frosting. The top had sliced strawberries adorning it that were cut to look like hearts. He handed it to Daryl who eyed him with a cynical glare, no doubt thinking back to the earlier incident with the donut. "It ain't poisoned...I promise."

"Taste it," Daryl ordered. 

"Really? I'm your food tester now?" he dryly replied.

"Either that, or give me another one." 

Rick rolled his eyes away but slowly returned them as a wicked smile spread over his face. And if Daryl thought that was arousing—because he absolutely did—it was nothing compared to what happened next. Rick opened his mouth in invitation for Daryl to feed him the cupcake. He wasn't expecting for Daryl to actually do it, but he could hope.

Daryl had never been more thankful for his big, baggy turnout pants in all his life as his cock strained inside them with his now fairly substantial hard-on. That was saying something considering that those pants had saved his life a time or two. And the throbbing only intensified at thoughts of how that pretty mouth of Rick's would look around his—

"Well?" Rick huffed impatiently.

Daryl cleared his throat and his thoughts as he pulled away the paper wrapping. He didn't even look around to see if anyone was watching as he slowly moved the sweet treat to Rick's lips, his eyes too focused on what was right in front of him to care about anything else.

When Rick bit into the cupcake, he let out a little hum of satisfaction as his taste buds exploded with an infusion of chocolate, strawberry, and sugar. His eyes drooped closed as he savored the flavors mingling on his tongue and the fact that Daryl had actually gone through with it. That had to mean something, right? Shane wouldn't've fed him a damn cupcake like that!

Daryl pulled it back and brought the cupcake to his lips where he aggressively bit into the moist delicacy, sticky chocolate frosting smudging everywhere, his eyes boring into Rick's with a challenge and a question maybe, but trying to decode Daryl Dixon was harder than doing calculus with an abacus. 

Rick couldn't tell if his mouth was watering from the cupcake, from Daryl, or from both, but he knew the movement of his eyes down to Daryl's lips when he swiped his tongue over a dark red drop of gooey filling clinging to the corner could've been seen from space. He didn't quite get all of it, and Rick wanted to help, wanted to lick him clean, wanted to taste.

"Happy?" Rick asked sarcastically, trying to distract himself. 

"This is fuckin' delicious," Daryl mumbled around another mouthful.

"Hey Rick, let's go!" Tara called from the engine.

"Gotta get back to work," Rick said absentmindedly as he watched Daryl scoop some frosting off the cupcake with the tip of his finger before plunging the digit into his mouth. 

Rick subconsciously lick his lips, reveling in the fact that he had the same flavors in his mouth, dancing on his tongue, that Daryl had. Before he did something stupid, he managed to turn around and walk calmly back over to his rig, his gait a little stiff as he conjured up as many unsexy thoughts as he could to cool his blood.

Michonne brought Daryl a bottle of water as he was finishing his cupcake. "What the hell was that?" she asked him, a suspicious expression clouding her features.

"What was what?" he shrugged.

"You just fed Rick a damn cupcake!" she hissingly whispered, looking around to make sure no one was close enough to hear them.

"I made him taste it to make sure it wasn't poisoned," he shot back defensively.

"He couldn't do it himself?"

"His hands were full, in case ya didn't notice."

"I give up on tryin' to figure ya'll out," she huffed, throwing her hands in the air in defeat. "One day you're kicking the shit out of each other, the next your erotically feeding each other cupcakes."

"Erotic? What the fuck are ya talkin' about? It was just one damn bite!" he insisted.

"I don't even know, Daryl...," she muttered as she walked away shaking her head.

That was exactly why he had been trying to keep his distance from Rick, because he knew that sooner or later he'd do something stupid like feed the man a yummy cupcake and people would start to notice how he really felt about him.

Well, the bright side was she scared his boner away....

*****

Daryl spent the next several days trying to come up with a way to get Rick back for the donut fiasco. 

The thing about scrutinizing someone so closely over a period of time was that you learned things about them, intentionally or otherwise. Daryl knew that Rick preferred pb&j's to ham and cheese sandwiches, that he hardly ever drank anything but coffee or water, that he sucked at basketball, and that he absolutely could not resist an Oreo.

On their next shift, that last one Daryl used as kryptonite.

Rick and Shane, his accomplice, were sitting on the sofa having a heated discussion about who shot first, Han or Greedo, when he walked up with a container of the iconic cookies. "Christ, you fuckers are such nerds," Daryl groaned, shaking his head disapprovingly. "Can ya rock, paper, scissors for it or somethin' 'cause some people are gettin' tired of hearin' your voice, Asshole."

"The grownups happen to be discussing a very important topic here so you can go fuck off," Rick fired back, holding back a stupid grin and the grunt of pain from Shane's elbow to the ribs he thought might've been done in solidarity but still hurt nonetheless.

"Well, I came over ta offer _Shane_ a cookie," he hotly replied, holding out the package to Shane who took the predesignated cookies meant to ward off any suspicion. He pointedly stared Rick down while the man glared back, but the longing glance Rick threw the cookies' way was blatantly obvious, and he laughed internally.

"Thanks, man," Shane said before tossing one whole into his mouth.

"Can I have some?" Rick asked. He was absolutely expecting Daryl to say no until he begged or did something embarrassing like apologize, but he didn't.

Daryl let out an annoyed huff, "Fine," he muttered, holding the package up for him. How he held back his smirk, he wasn't exactly sure.

Rick took a couple Oreos from the package and bit into one immediately. Daryl watched as his jaw moved a few times before his cyan eyes went wide. Rick flashed him an almost panicked look before jumping up and heading for the nearest trashcan to spit out the sabotaged treat.

Daryl strolled over behind him, trying very hard to keep his eyes off the man's ass as he bent over the bin. "Guess ya ain't a fan of their new minty fresh flavor," Daryl snorted.

"What? Was that...did ya fill those with toothpaste? Why would ya desecrate something so holy like that?" Rick whined.

"Same reason George Lucas altered such a pivotal scene...'cause he could. Or maybe it was just to fuck with ya."

"Han wasn't a coldblooded killer! Oh shit...are _you_ arguing Star Wars with me?" Rick chuckled with amusement. Daryl followed him to the sink where he washed out his mouth, and Daryl once again had to keep from staring at his ass while he was hunched over. Yep, so fucking gay for Rick Grimes!

"There's no argument to be had. It ain't coldblooded if the alien in question has a gun pointed at ya. Then, it's just defense. If anything it was a duel at high noon," Daryl replied. Rick smiled wide at that with those soft lips and bright eyes, and Daryl wanted to taste the horrible chocolate/mint combination he knew was still on his tongue.

"Hahaha, my li'l Darlin' _is_ a nerd!" Rick hysterically laughed as he walked back over to Shane. 

Daryl rolled his eyes and walked away to dispose of the rest of the altered cookies. He wasn't a nerd, he just googled all that stuff after he heard Rick and Shane arguing about it one day. He didn't care either way, he just wanted to be able to argue with him. 

_Wait...did he just call me_ his?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up: please do not freak out too much if I don't update regularly the next few weeks or, heaven forbid, not at all. Ugh, finals, then I might be traveling a bit. Promise I'm not abandoning you!!
> 
> Opps, adding a link to [Officer Hottie & the Redneck Baker.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3563654/chapters/7850150) In case you missed it.


	15. The Dread Pirate Rick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glenn has ties to an arson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you guys miss me, or are you just using me for my mild proficiency with words? <3
> 
> I cried over this chapter. It royally pissed me off. REALLY wanted to throw this fic in a blender, turn it to mush, and launch every trace of the fucker into a blackhole never to be seen again. Wanted to abandon it. Swore I was never gonna write again. Thought about sulking back to my other fandom and hiding out forever. 
> 
> Still might. But not today...maybe tomorrow. :p

On their next couple of fire calls everyone tensed up more than usual when they jumped in their rigs. That was to be expected when it felt like they were waiting for the arsonist to strike again. Every call could potentially pit them against the sick bastard, and nobody was looking forward to his latest twists to his technique or any escalation to his MO.

The pictures had turned up nothing, which only added to everyone's frustration. For all they knew, they could pass the guy on the street and never know it. Or they could know the guy and not know it. That was began to feel more and more likely as they started to realize that their shift was being targeted specifically by the arsonist. 

That just made things even worse. What would the guy do next? Would he start actively trying to hurt some of them? There were a lot of ways he could sabotage the scene to be more hazardous to them when they attempted a rescue. The worst part was not knowing the _when._ They knew it was coming, but the anticipation was almost too much.

Some of them were more on edge than others. Glenn had been on the job for less than five months. He trusted the guys to get him back out alive anytime they went running full steam into a building, but he was thrown a little when Rick was moved to Engine. 

It wasn't that he didn't trust Daryl, it was just that him and Rick were better friends. That was probably because a little of Daryl's hostility had spilled over onto him in the beginning, but they were slowly building up trust.

T-Dog and Shane were having trouble dealing with the recent loses. It was one thing to lose a few children in an accidental fire. It was quite another to be the ones to carry their bodies out of the house knowing they were too late to save them. Everyone else was coping pretty well, but Rick couldn't shake the feeling that the arsonist was targeting him specifically. 

"You're just being paranoid, Rick. We started on the same day, what if it's me? What if it's someone else on shift and the timing was just a coincidence? What if he's just a prick whose own schedule just happens to line up with ours?" Glenn asked as he tried to offer reassurance.

They had just finished washing the rigs and Rick and Glenn were in the kitchen on lunch duty. "It's a pretty big coincidence, don'cha think?"

"Can you think of anyone besides Daryl who would want to target you?" he snickered. "Unfortunately, he has alibis." 

"No clue, but a sick bastard like this wouldn't need much of a motive to justify what he's doing," Rick replied as he started to clean up the mess they made.

"I'll give you that," Glenn said, as he took the tray of sandwiches to the table. Everyone was just starting to filter in for lunch. 

"How come we always have sandwiches when Glenn and Rick are on mess duty?" Tara grumbled.

"Trust me, ya'll don't wanna see Glenn near an open flame he ain't tryin' ta put out," Maggie chuckled as she leaned up to give her boyfriend a kiss on the cheek before grabbing a sandwich.

"And Rick's proved he can't be trusted around food," Daryl added loud enough so Rick could hear him in the kitchen. They both glowered at each other, Rick over his shoulder before he turned back around to the sink to hide his smile.

"Speaking of, he made that one just for you," Glenn teased, pointing to Daryl as he bit into the sandwich in his hand.

"Ha. Ha," he mockingly laughed around a mouthful of bread and bologna.

"Thought you were gonna make Rick taste all your food, Dixon?" Tyreese smirked.

"Yeah, but knowing him, he's probably already built up a tolerance for iocane powder." With that, everyone turned to gawk at him. Even Rick turned around and started towards the table, unwilling to miss what might turn out to be a very interesting conversation. "What?" Daryl finally snapped.

"Did you just reference the Princess Bride?" Michonne asked curiously.

"Fuck ya'll, it was the only thing on last night!" he growled defensively.

"Nothing to be ashamed of, that's a good movie!" Sasha said. Daryl just glared at her as she grinned wide.

"Awe, what's the matter my little Buttercup? Need me ta come to your rescue?" Rick teased as he reached around Maggie to grab a sandwich for himself. 

"Fuck you, Prince Humper- _dick!_ " Daryl snapped.

"Nah man, he's Wesley," Shane said.

"He wishes," he said flipping both him and Rick off. Rick gave him a wink back, and Daryl hoped the heat creeping up from his collar was attributed to his growing rage at getting picked on and not the fluttering butterflies threatening to burst out of his ribcage.

"Alright, tha's enough," Merle interrupted, "Finish eatin' and get back ta work...'S okay Princess, Iñigo's got yer back!" he howled with laughter.

"That's funny Merle, but everyone knows your Fezzik," Michonne added, slapping Daryl on the shoulder in support.

"Ya mean I'm the dumb giant?" the captain asked, a little hurt as he frowned.

"If the shoe fits," Rick said, taking his usual seat next to Daryl.

"Well, I do have big feet, and ya know what they say about that," Merle said with another round of thunderous laughter. "Ain't that right, my Queen?" he said to Michonne who just rolled her eyes.

"Why ya gotta go and encourage 'im?" Daryl quietly asked Rick as Merle went on and on about shoe size and how it relates to penis length. 

Rick bumped him with his thigh under the table as he smiled around a bite. Daryl nudged him back. Neither were too quick to pull their thighs apart. "'S a good movie," Rick admitted only loud enough for Daryl to hear who only grunted back in reply.

Daryl's thigh was starting to burn and tingle from where it was pressed into Rick's. But just as the sensation was starting to travel up to his groin, a call came through. Maggie answered it from her radio. It was a house fire and everyone tensed, the jovial tone sucked out of the room in a millisecond.

"I know we're all thinkin' it...jus' be careful and watch each other's backs," Merle said as they all stood from the table and filed downstairs to the rigs.

Soon, they were pulling up to a two-story house and getting to work. "This ain't our guy," Rick almost sighed in relief as him and Tara started laying out hoses.

"How do you know?" she asked inquisitively.

"Just...do."

"It's in his gut," Morgan added as he helped Rick attached one end to the nearby fire hydrant.

He nodded as him and Tara took the first hose and started towards the house leaving Morgan and Ty to get the next one set up. Truck was already inside working rescue. Rick didn't really mind being on Engine. Whatever he could do to help, he'd do, but he was a little jealous of Daryl. 

He had gotten along well with Glenn, Shane, and T-Dog. They had made a pretty good team since him and Glenn started at Firehouse Twelve. He knew Daryl would have all of their backs, and they his, but it was difficult to be on the outside looking in.

"This our guy?" Daryl asked as him and Shane made their way upstairs.

"How the hell should I know?" he asked back. They had left Glenn and T-Dog to clear the first floor.

"Ya worked the arsons didn't ya?"

"Rick's the one who has a feel for this guy...I don't know...."

They made their way into the master bedroom after clearing the rest of the rooms. The door was locked but they didn't find anybody tied up in the middle of the room like in the last fires after they busted it down. There was smoke coming out of the bathroom but luckily no flames as they inched their way in.

"Fuck," Daryl huffed out as he peered into the bathtub. There were two charred bodies inside, black and smoldering, but the flames died out before the fire had spread. Even through his SCBA he could smell the distinct pungent aroma of burnt flesh. It made him want to throw up.

"I don't know what this is," Shane muttered beside him. 

"Looks like they were shot first...come on, we gotta go."

The two joined up with T-Dog and Glenn downstairs. "I'm not sure this is our guy unless he's trying to throw us off by changing his MO," T said as they made their way to the door. 

"There were multiple ignition points, including one in the kitchen, but this looks slop—" Glenn started but stopped when something on the wall caught his attention.

"What?" Shane asked, running into him as he stopped abruptly. They had to hug the wall as Rick and Tara ran through with a hoses.

"I know that guy," he said, grabbing a picture hanging on the wall as Shane ushered him out of the house.

"What do you mean, you know that guy?" T-Dog asked when they were safely back outside.

"His name is Randall Culver. We...shit, we went to the academy together...," he trailed off.

"'S he our guy?" Daryl asked.

"Maybe, I...was anybody inside?"

"There were two burnt bodies in the bathtub upstairs," Shane replied. "Dare said they might've been shot first."

"What do you mean shot?" Glenn asked. His eyes were a little glazed over as he thought back to his time at the academy. "He could be our guy...this guy, Randall, we...he, he hates me! He's been targeting me! It's me, my fault! Oh Jesus! Fuck!"

"Calm down, probie," Shane said as Glenn began to breath heavily. "You're gonna hyperventilate." Daryl and T-Dog shared a look as Shane led Glenn over to the truck to sit down for a minute. He came back to the other two shaking his head, "He wants Rick."

Daryl rolled his eyes, "I'll get 'im." He followed the hose inside to where Tara and Rick were putting out the last of the flames in the dining room. He tapped Rick on the shoulder but was momentarily struck speechless when the man's blue eyes lit up after turning to see who it was. He thought they lit up anyway, but maybe it was wishful thinking.

"Need somethin'?" Rick smirked. Daryl cursed him internally. Even with their masks on the twist of the bastard's lips turned his knees to jelly. It was really starting to piss him off!

"Glenn does," he replied, pointing over his shoulder. 

Rick nodded and handed the hose over to him. He walked out of the house and scanned the scene for Glenn. The younger man was sitting on the back of the truck, and he quickly made his way over, taking off his mask as he went. "Everything alright?"

"You were wrong, Rick! He's been targeting me!" Glenn said, eyes watery and red.

"Hey, I'm sure that ain't true," he assured him as he sat down beside him. He put an arm around his shoulder in an attempt to offer comfort.

Glenn held up the picture and pointed at a young man about his age. "I think this is our guy, Randall Culver. We went to the academy together...until I got him kicked out," he said remorsefully. "It's all my fault, all the people—"

"No, Glenn, this ain't on you or me, and it ain't anybody's fault but the bastard doin' it," he said with conviction. "So what happened at the academy?"

"I caught him cheating on some assignments and turned him in. I didn't know they would kick him out. I wouldn't've done it if I had! I just thought that maybe they would discipline him or something...I thought I was doing the right thing. But when they checked out his background more thoroughly, they discovered that he lied about some things."

"Glenn, ya were doin' the right thing turning him in. I don't think this is the same guy, though. This house...," Rick said, waving behind them, "...it feels too messy."

"This was spontaneous and his house! Of course it's sloppy, it's personal," Glenn counter shrugging off Rick's arm as he stood. "What if he was building to this to throw us off or just changing his MO? What if he's a copycat and we have TWO now?"

"Anyone inside?"

"Daryl said two people who looked like they had been shot."

"Maybe one of them is this Randall guy and you're overreacting," Rick said. "Le's just see what Arson turns up and we'll go from there. If nothin' else, we have a possible suspect now, but don't go workin' yourself up, okay? It won't do any of us any good."

"Yeah...yeah okay," Glenn sighed.

"Alright, get your tools and help T look for hotspots. I gotta get back in there or Daryl will start complainin' about how lazy I am or something," he snickered.

When he got back inside, Tara and Daryl had just finished dousing the last of the flames. "He alright?" Daryl asked.

"He'll be fine. He thinks the guy might be targeting him," Rick replied. He hated that Glenn thought that way, but he knew exactly how he felt. Maybe they were both reading into things too much, but he just couldn't shake the fact that all the fires were set on their shift.

"Thought you said this wasn't our guy," Tara pointed out, as they started hauling the hoses back out of the house.

"I don't know...I thought it wasn't, but he could just be trying to switch things up. I don't see why, though. The cops have nothing on him. I suppose that if this is our guy and this is his house, it makes sense that things would be different because it's personal," Rick explained.

"If it ain't our guy, then it's a pretty damn big coincidence that Glenn knows him," Daryl said.

Rick just sighed as him and Tara started refolding the hoses. He kept an eye out for Pete, and he wasn't sure what to think that he didn't show up. Maybe he was working? He was tired of thinking about this guy. It was exhausting having to keep vigilant all the time like the arsonist would pop out of nowhere and yell "Boo!" 

Daryl was doing a pretty good job of distracting him, though. Rick's eyes had subtly tracked him as he went in and out of the house as they worked, but now...now he was just flat out ogling him as the man bent over and practically poured a whole bottle of water on his head. 

It was a pretty warm day foreshadowing a hot Georgia summer and Daryl had taken his jacket off while he took his break. When he stood, there were tendrils of water snaking down into his grey t-shirt. He threw his head back and downed the rest of the bottle, not caring that he spilled some down his neck. 

Rick had never been more desperate for a drink of water in all his life. He wanted to lap up the cool liquid as it cascaded down the heated, sinewy expanse, wanted to taste it mixed with Daryl's sweat and the layer of smoke that was always clinging to their skin, wanted to lick him dry, wanted to lick him wet as he replaced the water with his saliva. 

_Would you stop!?_

"Rick?"

"What? Huh? Yeah?" Rick sputtered as he spun to face Tara, his face burning hotter than the surface of the sun. "Sorry, I was just, uh, thinkin' about this guy...or trying not to think about the bastard anyway." _Yeah, if by 'guy' you mean Daryl...._

Tara gave him a funny look that he couldn't quite decode, her eyes flittering over to where Daryl was then back to him before she repeated herself. "I asked if you were ready to go. We have to head to the grocery store on the way back."

"Uh, yeah, I think we're done here," he replied, clearing his throat. They stood there looking awkwardly at the other for a moment before he continued, "Did everyone talk to Arson?"

"They cleared Engine, and Ty needs to pick up some things for dinner."

"Let's move out then," he said heading to their rig. "What's he cookin' tonight?"

"Those potstickers everyone likes so much. Can't wait!" she nearly squealed.

"Oh yeah, those are good."

Rick was still pretty distracted after climbing into the rig. This was actually happening to him, he was undeniably attracted to another man. Pulse racing, palms sweaty, dick hard attracted to him to the point where he was starting to long for something more than the dreams he kept having. What the hell was he supposed to do with that? 

What the hell would Carl say? 

He couldn't even begin to imagine how that conversation would go. He was probably getting ahead of himself anyway. 

But should he ask Daryl out? Maybe as friends first? He had no idea how to date a man. Is that what he wanted? To date him? Well, it's not like he wanted to date anyone else. Maybe he just wanted to sleep with him. He had never wanted that before. Especially not with a man, not with anyone. Friends with benefits, isn't that what they called it? Enemies with benefits was probably more accurate. 

He wondered if Daryl would want to date him, or maybe he'd just want sex. He heard he'd just gotten out of a long term relationship, so maybe he wouldn't want anything serious. Where would they go if he did? It was the south, would people stare? Would Daryl want to be seen in public with him? Would the stubborn bastard even say 'yes' if he asked? 

He had no idea what kind of signs to even look for to give him any indication that Daryl might be feeling the same way. It was possible that he'd been reading everything wrong, but he couldn't help but think they were building something, or to something, with the looks and innocent touches and the fucking blue eyes that were on him even when they weren't.

It was nothing really, just a weird crush that was bound to go away eventually, except it wasn't. It was slowly getting worse, and days like today were not helping in the slightest. Days like today when his mind kept wandering back to the sight that was Daryl bent over and dripping wet.

That scene was only replaced by the sight of Daryl splayed out on the workbench later that night, body glistening with sweat, little sexy-as-fuck grunts leaving his lips with tiny huffs of air as he raised the weighted bar. And why exactly did he think it was a good idea to accept Shane's suggestion to get an extra workout in?

Was it because he saw Daryl walking into the gym just before Shane asked? Was it because he was a fucking stalker now? 

Probably.

The man even made the act of brushing his teeth seem erotic, his hand firmly on the handle as he plunged the brush in and out of his mouth, jaw slack and lips slick and frothy. And Rick just had to turn right the fuck around and walk out of the bathroom because he almost, _almost_ came from that sight alone.

The upside to days like that, days that were starting to happen more and more frequently—every day he saw Daryl really—was that he had plenty of mental pictures to keep him busy on the days he didn't work. The days in between when the lulls in handyman repairs left him longing for narrow eyes to break up the monotony.

But how long until that wasn't enough? How long until he broke and did something stupid?


	16. Two Idiots On A Roller Coaster Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The guys send flirty texts; Rick has 'heart to hearts' with Carl, Michonne, and Phillip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this chapter! <3 I just hope the texting exchange isn't too hard to follow as it jumps back and forth between them. Enjoy!

_[Daryl]: U coming this weekend? Merle needs a head count._

That was only a half lie. Merle had asked Daryl casually if he knew who all said they were going on the camping trip the next weekend, but he'd been hunting for an excuse to text Rick for over a week. 

He was just as nervous as the first time, his thumb almost chewed and worn down to a nub as he deleted and retyped out the message a few dozen times before he mustered the courage to actually hit [send].

Rick was in the middle of a conversation with Jesse in which he was casually hunting for whether her husband was working on the day they had their last arson. Turns out he was in surgery all day. That didn't exactly rule him out as a suspect in Rick's book because he still wasn't convinced that the Randall guy was their man. 

Now, Jesse was going on and on about some bake sale for the boys' school. Rick's mind had drifted to the memory of Daryl eating that cursed cupcakes after mentioning that he was going to pick up something from the bakery they rescued a few weeks back.

He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and quickly fished it out. His face immediately lit up when he read who the sender was, happy for the distraction. 

_[Rick]: Y? U want me 2?_

"How the hell am I supposed ta answer that?" Daryl said to himself. Well, he technically asked his cat, but Smokestack wasn't big on giving advice. The gray tabby continued on with her soft purring as she lounged contently on his lap.

_[Daryl]: If I do it's 2 use u as target practice._

_[Rick]: I've seen ur aim with a hose, doubt u could do any better with a gun._

Of course, Rick wouldn't be opposed to helping out with the hose part. With a different hose, maybe.... He was pretty sure he blushed at the thought.

"Is that your girlfriend?" Jesse asked.

"Hmmm?" Rick replied, reluctantly looking up at her. He completely forgot she was there, to be honest. She was a little put out but his brain was too preoccupied to notice. It was kind of rude, but he'd apologize later.

"I asked if that was your girlfriend you're texting," she repeated.

_[Daryl]: Not a gun, a crossbow. Any idiot could use a gun, prolly even u._

"Uh, no, just a friend," Rick answered Jesse, unable to stop the cheesy smile from breaking across his face. _Unfortunately,_ his brain so helpfully reminded him.

"Must be some friend," she forced a smile. "I'll leave you to it, I have dishes in the sink calling me."

_[Rick]: Who the hell hunts with a crossbow?_

"Yeah, see ya around," he absentmindedly called after her before floating back to his apartment.

_[Daryl]: Guess u forgot about the part where we were talking about me. Really, Grimes? My cat has a longer attention span then u. Or maybe ur ego's getting in the way again._

_[Rick]: Mine? I know urs is bigger!_

"You did not just send that?" Rick chided himself after realizing what he'd just typed. He flopped down on the couch when he got into his apartment, his feet propped up on the arm rest. He supposed that's what every guy wanted to hear, though.

_[Daryl]: I bet u say that 2 all the girls._

"Could ya be any lamer?" Daryl muttered. As if in reply, Smokestack let out a soft meow. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I know I ain't got no game," he said, scratching the grey fur ball under her chin.

_[Rick]: No, just u._

Daryl tried to bite back a silly grin at that, but things of that nature were becoming more and more difficult where Rick was concerned. There was no denying the crush he had on him, but a glimmer of something like hope for feelings to be reciprocated was beginning to flicker in the darkest depths of him, and conversations like this were not helping to extinguish that. 

_[Daryl]: U coming or not?_

Oh god, how Rick wished he was! He bit his lip and was barely able to stop his hand from slinking down his chest towards the growing tent he was pitching. Then he had to laugh because this was supposed to be a conversation about camping.

_[Rick]: Someone's gotta make sure u don't hurt anyone with ur little toy._

_[Daryl]: U dick! It ain't a toy! It's dangerous!_

_[Daryl]: And it ain't little!!_

Rick laughed out loud again at that. His mind was so far in the gutter that he was sure it had already been washed down a storm drain and was half way out to sea. 

_[Rick]: Whatever u say, Darling._

_[Daryl]: U ever gonna stop calling me that?_

He didn't really mind Rick calling him 'Darling'. It was better than something like 'Asshole' or 'Douchebag', but for some reason, Rick didn't seem to mind the nickname he gave him. That had to mean something, he was sure.

_[Rick]: U gonna stop calling me Asshole?_

_[Daryl]: Fuck no! Not sure I even remember ur real name._

_[Rick]: Would u rather me call u something else? I know Carol calls u Pooky. :D_

_[Daryl]: Don't u fucking dare!!_

"Hey dad!" Carl called as he walked in the door. 

"Hey Carl," Rick replied, sitting up and scrambling for a throw pillow to hide the rather obvious erection he was sporting. "Home already?" How long had he been laying there?

"Yeah, dad. It's three-thirty," he said like an annoyed teenager, tossing his backpack on the kitchen table.

Rick was in too good of a mood to correct his sass. "I'm going on a camping trip with the firehouse next weekend."

"Can I go?" Carl asked, perking up at the possibility as he made his way into the living room after grabbing a soda.

"Not this time. It's kinda like a bondin' thing, but I've been wanting ta take ya. Maybe when school's out in a few weeks."

Carl visibly deflated. "Can I stay at Patrick's then?"

_[Daryl]: I could always call u something else like Prick or Dipshit, if u don't like Asshole._

"Uh, no...I already made plans for you to stay with Aunt Carol," Rick distractedly replied. 

"Who are you texting?" Carl asked curiously as he looked over his shoulder from behind the couch.

"One of the guys from the house about the trip."

"Why does it say, 'My li'l Darling'?"

"That's just a nickname," Rick explained. "A hazing thang." He felt his cheeks heat up and hoped Carl hadn't noticed or wouldn't read into it, but the kid was perceptive.

Carl walked around the couch and sat down next to him with a grunt. "If you're seeing someone, you can just tell me. I'll understand. I know mom is gone and she's never coming back. And I know you can't stay single forever. Mom would want you to be happy. I do too." 

"It's nothing, just a little crush...speakin' of," Rick teased, wiggling his brows and hoping to distract Carl from the fact he was trying to change the subject, "Are ya gonna miss Beth when she graduates?" 

"Yeah...but I was thinking she might be a little old for me," he blushed. Rick gave him a knowing look and nudged him with his elbow. "Ugh, I'm going to my room," Carl huffed as he stood.

"Homework before video games," Rick hollered after him. "I'll be here when you're ready ta talk about her," he snickered.

"Me too, dad," he replied. Then, it was Rick's turn to blush like a lovestruck teenager.

Elsewhere, Daryl was getting paranoid when Rick hadn't texted him back. He was probably just busy or something, but what if he said the wrong thing? He went back and reread their conversation which didn't offer any insight as to what went wrong, so he tried to shrug it off. If Rick didn't want to text anymore, than there was nothing he could do about it.

Except maybe mope around like a little bitch.

In an attempt to distract himself, he got up and grabbed a beer from the fridge. That didn't really help. He turned on the television but nothing good was on. Maybe Rick really didn't like him calling him 'Asshole'. It was a pretty shitty nickname, he had to admit.

_[Rick]: Merle want me 2 bring anything?_

Daryl subconsciously released the tension that had built up in his shoulders from waiting. "Ya need ta get ahold of yourself, idiot!" He was glad Smokestack had crawled back into his lap when he sat down again because it kept him from taking that too literally.

_[Daryl]: No. Said he don't want 2 risk u poisoning us._

_[Rick]: Fuck you! He did not!_

"Hey, Darlina!" Merle exclaimed as he nearly busted down Daryl's door. "Ya seen my extra sleepin' bag?"

"Jesus! Fuckin' Christ, Merle!" Daryl jumped sending a sleeping Smokestack soaring through the air along with his phone. She landed, claws out, on his thigh before scampering off into the bedroom like a streak of gray lightening while his phone skidded across the floor. "Damn near gave me a heart attack, ya ass!" he continued, rubbing his thigh.

"Oh, don't be such a pussy. Where's my spare sleepin' bag?" he asked again. "Need it for Michy. We's gonna zip 'em together and christen 'em good," he salaciously snickered.

"Please don't talk about her like that. She's still my best friend," Daryl rolled his eyes as he stood. "And where the hell am I supposed ta sleep?"

"Got that extra tent and an air mattress," Merle replied as he sat down on the spot he vacated. 

Daryl walked over to the hall closet and retrieved the camo sleeping bag. He tossed it at Merle before bending over to retrieve his phone. "Fu-uck!" he cursed as he picked up the mangled cell phone. "Ya made me break my phone," he whined.

"Sorry, baby brother. Go get ya a new one," Merle shrugged looking half way apologetic. "Ain't a big deal."

"Ain't the point! I was in the middle of a conversation, Merle!" he huffed in frustration. Rick was probably going to think he didn't want to talk to him anymore just like he had. That was just fucking great.... _Dammit, Merle!!_

"Ya been holdin' out on me?"

"'Bout what?" Daryl scoffed, trying to feign ignorance.

"Don't bullshit me, li'l bro! Ya got yerself a birdy ya ain't tol' me about?" Merle narrowed his eyes at him. "Ole Merle can always tell when yer lyin'."

"'S nothin'," he shrugged him off. It probably was nothing. Now.

"Ya jus' be careful, okay? Don't want yer girlfriend gettin' all jealous," Merle laughed as he slapped his knee.

"Ya high? I ain't gotta girlfriend."

"Then, what tha hell do ya call Rick?" he teased, another round of mirthy laughter echoing in the small living room.

"Shuddup," Daryl hissed. He quickly pulled on his boots and grabbed his keys, trying hard to avoid Merle's gaze, other wise the Captain might've figured out how close he was to the truth with his "joke."

"Where ya goin'?" Merle asked after he was able to stop his incessant laughter.

"Ta get a new sleepin' bag...and a fuckin' phone," Daryl grumbled. "Ya comin' or what?"

It was probably best his conversation with Rick ended where it did. Any longer and he would've gotten all weird and shit and probably scared him off. He couldn't wait for this little crush of his to run its course because he was starting to get a little too attached.

*****

On the next shift, Rick was trying not to feel too slighted by the abrupt end to him and Daryl's conversation. The man didn't owe him an explanation and must've just been too busy to reply. Rick was pretty sure that was a sign that Daryl didn't actually have feelings for him.

That was for the best anyway. He had probably imagined everything. Maybe Daryl was just trying to be his friend. Maybe so he'd lower his guard. Sneaky bastard! Well, Rick Grimes was not going to fall for his charms no matter how fucking adorable his scowl was!

"Hey Asshole!" Daryl called as he was walking by Merle's office.

 _Shit!_ he internally cursed when his heart rate sped up involuntarily and his palms started to sweat...so much for not falling for the man's wiles. 

"Merle wants ya to bring stuff for s'mores. Woulda texted ya but he broke my damn phone and I didn't have my contacts synced. So...you'll have ta text me so I have your number again," he explained as they started up the stairs.

"No problem," Rick replied. God, he was on a fucking emotional roller coaster here!

"Poison my donut today?" Daryl ask, giving him a sideways look as they got into the kitchen.

"Nah, Darlin'. Got something better planned for today," he winked. He was bluffing. 

"God, could ya be anymore immature?" he huffed, grabbing his usual chocolate and sprinkle covered donut. He tentatively took a nibble to test it out. Rick was standing there with a wide smile on his face just watching. This psychological warfare shit they had going on was worse than the pranks. He was going to be on edge all day wondering when Rick would strike.

"First off, I'm not god, but I can see how you'd be mistaken," Ricked teased.

"Fuck off!" Daryl scoffed, dramatically rolling his eyes.

"And secondly...probably," Rick replied, grabbing a donut for himself before heading for the coffee machine. He poured a cup for each of them and fixed them the way they both liked it: more sugar than coffee. He slid a mug to Daryl who was eyeing him suspiciously. "What?" he shrugged.

Daryl was going to ask how he knew how he liked his coffee, but it'd probably be a repeat of the sandwich conversation, and the crafty sonuvabitch would probably find a way to get him to admit that he knew his coffee preferences, too. So instead, he just shook his head and walked away. Because damn that coffee was good! But they hadn't worked their way up to compliments yet.

Rick felt a little bad about psyching Daryl out. He was pretty skittish all day and even snapped at a cop when they got called in for a traffic accident. But it sure was fun to watch! 

"Ya know you're killin' him, right?" Michonne asked when she approached him after dinner.

"'S pretty funny, though," Rick chuckled.

"I'm just glad you two have found a way to be friends," she said with a look he couldn't quite read.

"Friends, huh?"

"In fact..I'm kinda hurt."

He furrowed his brow at that, "What do ya mean?"

"'Well, I don't know how it happened, but I'm pretty sure you're his best friend."

"Have ya gone insane? We fight like cats and dogs! Besides, that's your job, remember?"

 _Ya'll fight like an old married couple,_ she wanted to say. "Things haven't quite been the same since I started seeing Merle. Don't get me wrong, they aren't _bad._ Plus, I just don't think you can beat the shit out of each other and come out the other side all cheery as fuck like you two idiots did without ya'll being like best friends or something."

"What? So we should have sleepovers and braid each other's hair? 'Cause I haven't had a best friend since middle school that wasn't my wife." _Oh god, sleepovers? Really?_

"Ya'll's hair ain't long enough yet," she teased. "Just sayin' that you two are better friends than you probably realize is all."

"So, what? Should I go easier on him? Wait...I know what this is! He sent ya over here to rattle me, didn't he? Lull me into a false sense of security? Well, it ain't gonna work!" Rick narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her.

"Ugh, you guys are idiots!" she huffed as she walked away. If that's how he took the whole 'best friends' conversation, he would probably have a stroke if she brought up her theory about them being soulmates. _Maybe they'll figure it out...idiots._

*****

Rick always hated shift change the morning after he worked. Partly because that meant two days without seeing his new family...and Daryl. And partly because that's when he'd see Phillip with his fake smile and irritating conversations. But mostly he couldn't stand his passive aggressive, 'winning' personality.

"Hiya, pal!" Phillip said as he clapped Rick on the shoulder, fingers lingering and digging into his muscle before he slowly pulled away. Or Rick managed to squirm away.

"Hey, Phil...how's it goin'?" he asked, hiding most of his contempt. The best he could tell, Phillip had been eyeing a shift change to the 'prison' shift, as it was nicknamed, when Daryl got hurt. And Phillip was pissed when Rick was hired to fill the spot instead of him. Needless to say, they didn't get along.

"Not too bad. Better now that I'm here. Have ya given anymore thought to changing shifts?" Phillip asked curiously.

"Like I told ya last shift and the one before that, Daryl and I worked out our differences," Rick replied.

"Fer now."

"Yeah, for now."

"Well, keep me in the loop, buddy. I'd be happy ta change my schedule around for ya," Phillip smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. 

"Hey, Rick," said Martinez as he passed.

"Hey, Caesar," he replied with a nod. "I appreciate that, Phillip. You're a good friend," he said with a similarly insincere smile.

"Did I ever tell ya that I was at that infamous prison fire?"

"Every time I see ya, Phil," he sighed, but Phillip ignored him and continued.

"It was the first shift after Merle got his promotion, y'know, after they forced Joe inta retirement on account a' his drinkin'. Anyhow, it was supposed ta be a prison break, but things went wrong. We got there just in time and saved 'em all. Got us a nice hunk a' medal for our troubles. Then, I got moved to a different shift. That seem fair?"

"Ya did tell the warden ta go fuck 'imself when he told ya to safe the inmates," Daryl chimed in as he joined them on his way by. "And I don't remember you doin' much savin'."

Phillip scoffed, "I was lookin' out for my brothers. Forgive me if I think you're worth more than some convicts. Ya think he can keep ya'll as safe as I can?" he motioned to Rick.

"He's done a pretty good job so far," Daryl replied.

"Yeah, for someone who's got an arsonist's crosshairs painted on his back," Phillip sneered. "Ya bes' be careful out there boys. Who knows what he has in store for ya next."

"No need ta worry about us, we got each other's back. Unlike you who only has your own," Daryl glared back. "Come on, Rick. We got things ta do," he said, slapping him on the back before heading to the door.

"See ya, Phillip," Rick smiled as he turned to follow Daryl out. "What are these _thangs_ we gotta do?" he asked when he caught up to him.

"Ever heard of a lie, Asshole?"

"'Course. I gotta listen to ya run your mouth every third day," he smirked.

"I jus' rescued ya from that windbag and you're gonna bust my balls? Ya really are an asshole, y'know that?" Daryl scoffed as he secured his stuff on his bike and got out his helmet.

"I didn't pull a prank on ya this shift! Can't we call it even?"

"Fine," he muttered before starting his bike and yelling, "See ya Friday." 

"Yeah, see ya then," Rick hollered back, slipping into his recently repaired jeep. He put the key in the ignition and turned his head just in time to see Daryl scowl and flip him off before pulling away. Rick chuckled to himself as he turned the key and shifted into reverse.

They were both too distracted to notice Michonne in her car studying their exchange. She sighed to herself and started her car. "Idiots," she mumbled before nearly jumping out of her skin when Tara tapped on her window. "Ya scared the shit outta me!" she admonished when she rolled the window down.

"You see it too, right?" Tara simply asked.

Michonne nodded slightly as she released a sigh, "I see something alright...." _Two idiots in love._


	17. Bad Moon Rising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang goes camping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to lilvixen25 who helped me out and gave me some awesome ideas for this chapter and the next.

Rick was probably more excited than he should've been for the camping trip. The idea of being trapped in the woods with Daryl for two days was strangely appealing. And he could only hope for a friendly game of Truth or Dare or Never have I Ever to get out of hand.

But they still had a whole shift to go before they left and that started with their morning meeting.

"A'ight, settle down, my li'l ducklings. We got shit ta take care of before we get ta go play tomorrow. If we're lucky, it'll be a slow night," Merle said, waving his clipboard around. "First off, HQ still wants a few more signups for the calendar, _Daryl,"_ he said pointedly as he looked at his brother.

"Nah, man," Daryl shook him off.

"What's a matter Darlin'? Afraid T and Shane'll make ya look bad?" Rick teased, encouraged by the "ohh's" everyone gave him.

"I don't see you volunteerin'," Daryl pointed out.

"I will if you will. 'Course, why would they want your ugly mug when they got my handsome face to stick on the month of July?"

Daryl had to swallow at the thought of Rick as a pinup, body glistening from oil as the photographer snapped picture after picture while he posed in just his turnout pants. "Fine! I'll do it! Now get off my back ya assholes!" Daryl hissed, crossing his arms in front of him with.

"Ya ain't gotta be self-conscious, Darlina. Ya got the best guns in the house," Merle stated. "Okay, now onto the heavy stuff. I jus' got the report from Arson. The autopsy revealed that the two people inside the last house were in fact shot before they were doused. They also confirmed that it was Mr. and Mrs. Culver, the home owners. 

"The accelerant used was gasoline, but tha's really the only thing connectin' this to the other fires. So for the time bein', they are listin' the results as inconclusive on whether it's our guy. However, they do have an APB out on this Randall guy since he hasn't been seen since the fire.

"For some reason, the press seems ta think that the kid is our arsonist. The Chief has told me ta remind ya'll not ta talk to those vultures. And as always, be careful out there. Watch each other's backs...."

As Merle continued onto administrative things, Rick's mind began to wander. Deep down, he knew Randall wasn't their guy. It wasn't something he could explain, it was just a feeling; his _gut_ as Morgan had said. But that wasn't very helpful.

This guy has been toying with him for four—almost five—months now, and he was a little afraid of what he'd do if someone else was given credit for his work. It was almost June and they knew as much about him now as they did when Rick started working, when the arsons started. It was beyond frustrating.

After the meeting wrapped up, everyone went about their daily routines. Luckily, the day passed without incident and they only got a few minor calls. Nothing too stressful, which everyone was grateful for. They were even able to sleep through the night without incident. 

Everyone was happy about that because they knew that in about two weeks, their lives would turn rather hellish as the Fourth of July drew near. The weeks before and after Independence Day were always a tough time and could almost be considered the "busy" season, but that was when fireworks were illegal in Georgia.

This year things would most likely be a lot worse. The state's ban on fireworks would be lifted on the first of July, and they all had suspicions that things would be a little crazier this year. Despite that, Rick had already promised Carl they'd get some to mark the occasion.

The following morning, everyone piled in a few cars and headed out. They had packed their bags and cars the day before so they'd be ready to hit the road right after shift change. Rick rode with Morgan, Tyreese, Sasha, and Bob. Merle had asked if he wanted to ride with him, Michonne, and Daryl, but he didn't think that would be the best idea.

He had no idea how the weekend would go. It would be the first time he'd be around Daryl for any length of time outside the firehouse, and he was nervous and excited about that. Maybe he'd see him in a different light. Or maybe he'd realize Daryl was a complete douchebag and finally be over his infuriating little crush.

*****

About an hour on the road and the caravan pulled into a campsite in a densely forested area. The girls had convinced Dale to come along, mostly for the use of his RV, and he'd already parked and hooked up the amenities by the time they had arrived. 

The morning was spent setting up camp. Or in Rick's case, trying to keep his eyes out of the tractor beams that were Daryl's biceps. Did the man really have to cut off the sleeves on all his shirts? That just didn't seem practical! And the lewd ways in which he was contorting and bending as he set up his tent should've been outlawed. Except Rick was pretty sure the sexually suggestive part was just in his head.

Rick and Glenn were on sandwich duty for lunch. After they ate, Daryl got out his crossbow. It was his most prized possession and he liked to show it off as well as his proficiency with it. But mostly he just wanted to impress Rick, although he'd never admit it, not even to himself.

"Look guys! Daryl brought his toys," Rick quipped when Daryl fished the crossbow out of the back of Merle's truck.

"I told ya already, Grimes! It ain't a damn toy!" Daryl huffed. If anyone else had said that, he might've been offended.

"Bes' remember that 'cause we don't want ya puttin' anybody's eye out with it," he winked back playfully.

"Everyone knows it'd be yours, Rick," Shane butted in earning a round of cheers and affirmations.

"Hey now! I don't wanna have to work on my day off," said Sasha, looking back and forth between the two in warning as she wagged her finger like a teacher giving a lecture.

"I ain't gonna shoot 'im in the eye," Daryl scoffed. _Maybe in the ass with somethin' else,_ he most certainly did not think. "Goin' huntin'," he announced right before he stormed off, mostly in an attempt to hide the incriminating blush threatening to creep up at his incessant thoughts.

Everyone split off into small groups at that to explore the woods a little. Shane caught up with Daryl with his rifle in hand and the two went in search of rabbits so Merle could make his famous stew for supper. Unfortunately, they didn't spot any, but he did rig some snares. With any lucky they'd have some tomorrow. Shane tried to get a few squirrels but missed all his marks. He could probably aim for his feet and still miss. 

"Come on, man! We can't go back empty handed," Shane pouted when Daryl announced his readiness to return to their campsite...and not just to see what Rick was up to.

"Stay out here then," Daryl replied as he started out, "Jus' don't get lost." He set out without looking back knowing Shane was capable enough to find his way back alone despite his hunting "skills". He walked about ten minutes and came along a few sets of footprints. That's when he went into stealth mood. 

And he may or may not have been pretending he was in some sort of apocalypse stalking a zombie or something when he came up on Rick, Glenn, and Maggie. They had stopped on a rock outcrop for a water break. His crossbow was raised and Rick was dead center in his crosshairs as he observed them through the trees. 

A bolt was loaded, the string pulled back, but his finger was just off to the side of the trigger. His heart had started to race and his palms went clammy as soon as the all too familiar outline of Rick's body came into focus, everything else going blurry in comparison, his normally acute senses dulling as he intently eyed his prey.

He was getting hard watching him take his turn with the canteen. Those perfectly plump lips puckered around the spout had him tempted to rub one out while he had the chance. Surely the squirrels wouldn't judge him if he did.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Michonne demanded to know in a rather hash whisper. Had the man completely lost his mind taking aim at Rick like that? Fuck, maybe she misread everything!

Daryl scoffed as he lowered the crossbow, "I wasn't gonna do nothin'," Daryl whispered back, turning his head to meet her horrified eyes. He had been so blinded by Rick that he hadn't even heard her approach. Shit, if she was a zombie, he would've been a goner!

"Dare, ya had the damn thing pointed right at him!"

"Was jus' messin' around! Jesus, take a fuckin' chill pill."

"I've known ya for over a decade, Daryl, and I love you like a brother, but ever since he came around, I don't know what the hell's goin' on with you," Michonne said, her worried expression making him feel guilty about keeping his feelings for Rick a secret from her. She was absolutely right, he always told her everything.

"Michy, when I figure it out, you'll be the first ta know," he snapped, slinging his bow over his shoulder and brushing past her. He knew she probably wouldn't judge his novel, unforeseen attraction towards Rick, but that's a helluva bombshell to drop without warning.

"Where's my rabbits, Darlina?" Merle asked when he came storming into camp.

"Shane scared 'em off?" he scowled before heading straight for the beer. His skin was still flush from thoughts of Rick. If he was lucky, everyone would think the sheen of sweat on his brow was from his hunting excursion. Bob, Tyreese, Sasha, and Tara were playing horseshoes and asked if he wanted to join as he passed, but he said no. 

What he really wanted to do was get plastered, but he figured that getting shitfaced around Rick was probably the worst thing he could do right now because he tended to get handsy when he was drunk and who knew what the hell he'd say without his filter in place. Instead, he listened to Dale and Merle shoot the shit about the good ol' days and tried to ignore the gorgeous bastard when he finally made it back to camp.

Rick, Maggie, and Glenn had brought back firewood for the cooking and all were disappointed Daryl and Shane returned empty handed. Everyone had spent the last week talking about Merle's infamous rabbit stew, and Rick and Glenn were looking forward to trying some. Merle was a pretty decent cook and they knew he wouldn't disappoint. But what Rick was really looking forward to were the s'mores!

It had been far too long since Rick had been camping. They used to go almost once a month as a family before the accident, but like most things he did with Lori, he'd avoided it for almost two years. Carl was the one who suffered the most from it, so this weekend was like a litmus test, a dry run to see how he handled it before bringing Carl out sometime.

It was going pretty well, other than the fact that he'd have to wait for tomorrow to try the stew. It was probably best that Carl wasn't with him. Daryl was a good distraction from the memories that threatened to creep up a couple of times, but there was no way he'd be able to hide anything from Carl.

He'd been sending his son play-by-play texts all day, and even a few pictures as the group did various tasks. He was surprised he had service, but they hadn't ventured too far out of the city limits, just enough to see the stars a little more clearly come nightfall.

Bob and T-Dog had been setting up the volleyball net before everyone dispersed and were just starting to get people assembled for their first game. It was going to be Truck verses Engine with the Ambo crew scattered throughout. Daryl was usually pretty good at volleyball. Usually.

"Come on, Dare!! Ya coulda had that one!" Shane shouted when Morgan scored a first quick point.

"'S just a game, Walsh," he scoffed.

"Yeah, with two weeks of latrine duty on the line!"

Rick had been on the phone with Carl when they started, but that didn't stop him from inadvertently helping out team Engine. When he got into the chocolate, Daryl's brain went haywire. He watched him pop a pip in his mouth then lick the melted mess off his thumb with his tongue. Engine capitalized on his distracted state when Tyreese spiked the ball right at him. 

The shouts of "LOOK OUT!" came too late and the ball nailed him square in the forehead. The shock sent him flying backwards where he stumbled then fell hard on his back.

He may've blacked out because he was relatively certain he was dreaming when he looked up. All he saw was Rick kneeling over him, warm and doe-eyed in the soft light peaking through the canopy as the edges of his vision faded away. He waited for Rick to lean down and kiss him—that was how most of his dreams went these days—and was completely oblivious to the other faces crowded around that were more of a blur than anything. 

"Yer pretty," Daryl purred in his confused daze.

"Ain't he, though?" Michonne teased, stroking Rick's cheek with the back of her hand as the crowd laughed around them.

"Fuck you, Michonne," Rick elbowed her playfully, "Pretty sure he was talkin' ta you."

"I dunno, Rick, yer awful purdy," Merle mocked.

"Ain't I, though?" he quipped. "You alright, Darlin'?" he asked with concerned eyes, bringing their attention back to Daryl.

Daryl just groaned in response. The conversation had sobered him up, and he was now hiding behind his hands. He was so fucking mortified, but thankfully, everyone laughed off his little slip up. Even Rick, which somehow made everything ten times worse. 

Soon, the group turned their attention to arguing over whether or not Tyreese's point counted. Daryl was fine with that because it gave him more time to wallow in his misery. The next few hours were spent trying to stay as far away from Rick as possible.

Later on, the gang headed to the nearby lake for a swim before sunset. Rick was the last one down after drawing the short stick for an ice run. He placed his towel on the beach and went to take his shirt off but time slowed to a snail's pace when he caught sight of Daryl in the distance.

The hunter had just broke the surface of the lake from below sending ripples radiating outward from where he stood, hips submerged and water sluicing down a body tinged orange from the palette of the sinking sun. His swimsuit was below the waterline and Rick's mind traitorously supplied the tempting illusion that he was skinny dipping.

He was pretty sure that scenes like that only happened in the movies. Daryl's head was thrown back as his hands rose to slick down wet hair, triceps bulging with the movement and glistening with the water cascading down them to trickle from his elbows. There was even that hazy glow around him, which on latter review was probably just Rick's imagination.

But that was the last thing he was focusing as his eyes surveyed the perfect cut of Daryl's silhouette against the sky, his breath nonexistent as he took in every detail, every rut and divot of his abs, mental pictures to stuff in the back of the side table of his mind for safekeeping. He looked like a model on shoot and Rick was the camera, every second a new flash on his retinas.

He didn't dare blink, hell, he was paralyzed, rooted to the spot, hopelessly caught up in the moment, in the view, in the beauty that was Daryl. Rick swallowed hard as he took it all in. He knew the man was handsome and that he was obviously attracted to him, but that was the moment in which he realized he _needed_ him, that it was more primal want than silly crush.

But before he could analyze that epiphany, the moment was shattered to pieces like a pane of glass. 

"Looks like 's gonna be a full moon tonight, boys and girls!!" Merle shouted at the top of his lungs as he sprinted for the water, naked as the day he was born. If Daryl was poise and grace, Merle was chaos and destruction as he crashed full-steam into the water, the splashes hitting everyone within a twenty foot radius.

"Goddammit, Merle! Put some fucking trunks on!" yelled...well everyone. But the Captain just ignored them all and started swimming around in the water like an uncoordinated frog on crystal.

"Is he high?" Rick asked Michonne as he hit the edge of the lake, pulling his shirt off and tossing it back towards his towel.

"No, just stupid," she sighed.

"And maybe drunk," Maggie added. "You should prolly keep an eye on 'im, Michonne," she smiled, nudging her shoulder.

"And how exactly did I get stuck babysitting the boss?"

"I imagine it's because you're used to seeing his full moon," Rick chuckled as he started to wade into the water. 

"Not ta mention the dark side of it," Shane sniggered on his way out of the lake.

"Nah, Merle! Get the hell away from me!" Daryl was hollering when Rick go a little further out. Merle was trying to crawl up his back to challenge Sasha and Bob to a game of chicken they had going. "'M warnin' ya, keep that fuckin' thing away from me!"

"Bet you'd let Rick on yer shoulders," the older Dixon cackled. "Hey, purdy thang, ya wanna ride Daryl?" he called to Rick. Daryl didn't need a mirror to know he'd probably just turned fifty shade of red in the span of a few seconds. That was a loaded question if he ever heard one.

"What the actually fuck, Merle?" Morgan mumbled from somewhere for all of them.

"Jus' figured he'd want a go 'fore Daryl's new lady friend gets 'er claws in 'im," he teased.

Daryl liked to think he had gotten pretty good at reading Rick over the past several months, so when his face went from bright and cheery to something like doubtful and gloomy, he fucking noticed. He couldn't be sure which part of Merle's comment caused it, but a panic welled up in his chest regardless.

"We talked about this Merle, I don't got a girl," Daryl quietly growled to him.

"Then who was ya talkin' ta the other day, baby brother?" Merle asked, finally dropping his volume.

"A friend. I already told ya. Weren't even a girl," he admitted, trying to get Merle off his scent.

"False alarm, Firefighter Friendly! He ain't got a girl after all, so ya can ride 'em all ya like," Merle hollered back to Rick.

Everyone burst into a fit of giggles, hoots, and hollers as Rick and Daryl both nearly passed out from embarrassment—or from intentionally drowning themselves—unable to look at anyone, let alone each other, because yes, that sounded like a great fucking idea!

"Wha's so funny?"

"How much did he drink?" Sasha asked from on top of Bob's shoulders.

"Too much," Bob simply replied.

"Think it's time to get ya back on dry land," Daryl said, putting his hands on Merle's shoulders to lead him back to the shore. If he had to look at Rick with his wet curls, soaked to the bone and half naked—all pale skin and unassuming muscle—after that humiliating exchange, he just might've had a stroke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the song of the same name by Creedence Clearwater Revival.


	18. Ketchup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pranks cause trouble for Rick.

*Two Days Ago**

_[Merle]: You got the stuff for the Probie?_

_[Shane]: Yes, what about Rick?_

_[Merle]: Dare's got something in mind for his girlfriend, but as long as youre on your little panty raid get his too._

_[Shane]: Fuck no! I am not touching another man's undies! Ha, they are so fucking gay!_

_[Merle]: Don't you fucking talk about my brother like that, dick hole!!_

_[Shane]: Just joking, man. Chill out. You make fun of them all damn day!_

_[Merle]: Cause it's funny when I do it._

 

**Twenty Minutes Ago**

_[Merle]: Rick just got back. Be ready when we get down to the lake. I'll distract them._

_[Shane]: I know the plan._

 

**Present time**

Shane saw Rick break the tree line followed shortly after Merle. When they both hit the water, he started back towards camp. Merle forgot to mention the part of the plan about him being buck ass naked, but he was glad he was walking away because there wasn't enough eye bleach to cleanse his mind of that man's pasty ass.

He jogged back to camp, not even bothering to towel off. First on the list was Glenn. It would take the longest. After grabbing his bag of supplies from the back of his truck, he slinked over to Glenn's tent. He unzipped the flap and crawled inside and over to the man's sleeping bag.

Pranks against the newbies on their camping trips were a tradition. Last year, Tara woke up to find all her things floating on a raft out on the lake. Merle had wanted to put her on the raft while she slept, but Dale and Morgan vetoed that citing drowning hazards. The year before that, they placed fake bugs all over Maggie's tent. She woke up the whole camp when she screamed the next morning.

Shane pulled out the cans of shaving cream from his bag. He pulled apart Glenn's decoy sleeping bag—one Merle bought when he went shopping with Daryl—then filled the thing with cream before neatly zipping it back up. It'd be dark by the time everyone started filing back to camp, so hopefully he wouldn't notice the switched out bags.

Unfortunately, Glenn and Maggie were sharing a tent so he went ahead and did the same thing to her sleeping bag. Thank god Merle got two extra. She was going to be so mad, but it had to be done. Plus, he thought she got off easy with fake bugs. Afterwards, he stashed their real bags in his truck.

Phase two was Merle's panty raid. Of course, he got volunteered to do it because the Captain was afraid Michonne would kick his ass for that one. The girls were going to be so pissed! After collecting them all, he went and hid them under the RV. Merle was in charge of stringing them up in the night.

"I am so gettin' murdered next shift," Shane said to himself. 

He looked forlorn over at Rick's tent. He was not touching the man's underwear, no matter what Merle said. Instead, he slipped in, gathered up all his clothes, and quickly stuffed them with the girls undergarments. If Merle wanted to string them up he'd have to go through the pile and fish them out his damn self.

He had just finished when Merle and Daryl came into camp, "drunk" Merle stumbling around like a fool. "Whatcha got planned for Rick?" Shane asked Daryl after he got Merle settle in his tent for a nap to "sleep it off".

"Exploding ketchup bottle. Spread the word not ta use it with the hotdogs tonight. I got an extra bottle for after, but Rick needs ta go first," Daryl replied.

Shane wrinkled his brow, "How ya gonna do that?"

"Jus' watch," Daryl said as he went to grab the half-empty ketchup bottle and backing soda he stashed in his tent. He turned the ketchup bottle upside down on the table they had set up and opened the baking soda.

"Why'd ya do that?"

"It's gotta coat the sides," he replied. He turned the bottle over and quickly poured in a few spoon full's worth of the baking soda. He carefully turned the bottle back over and screwed on the top. 

"How, exactly, is this thing suppose ta explode?" Shane asked unconvinced.

"Did ya ever put vinegar and baking soda together as a child? When he goes ta shake the bottle, it'll mixed together and pressurize since ketchup is loaded with vinegar. When he opens the top, BOOM!" Daryl explained, as he placed the bottle in the ice chest. "Chemistry or some shit."

An hour later, the sun was almost down and the group had assembled back at camp. Morgan and Tyreese were in charge of getting the fire going. In the end, it was Tara doing the work as the guys "supervised." She had mumbled something about not trusting them with matches when she snatched them from Ty's hand.

Daryl had carved some sticks for everybody to use to cook dinner and roast marshmallows on later. Rick was one of the first to get a stick and a couple of dogs. Little did he know, that was by design. He knew hotdogs were a campfire classic, but he also knew it was fucked up that he was looking forward to watching Daryl eat such a phallic shaped food.

"We got any ketchup?" Rick asked after his hotdogs were done.

"Check the cooler," Shane said.

Rick didn't catch the looks and hidden smirks pretty much everyone had but him, thanks to the cover of night, as he walked over to grab the bottle. He shook it to get the ketchup in the neck as he walked back over to the fire to sit down. He placed his plate in his lap and flipped the cap completely unaware of all the eyes on him. Then...

*POP*

"Holy shit!! What the? What? FUCK!" yelped a surprised-  
—and now thoroughly ketchup-covered—Rick who sent the bottle and his food crashing to the ground when he leapt up startled. Everyone was dying of laughter as the reality of the situation sunk into his brain. 

"Aww man! I sat too close," Glenn lamented, brushing the condiment off his arm.

"DARYL!!" Rick bellowed turning towards the man who was sitting across the fire from him—front row, center. "Goddammit, ya asshole!" Sasha was standing by with napkins and handed him a few to wipe the red sauce off his face, but he knew he'd have to change his clothes. He probably looked like he'd been shot.

"What's the matter, _Darlin'?_ Got egg on your face?" Daryl mocked as the gang continued their rioting laughter. "Oh...no, jus' ketchup."

"Ha. Ha. Laugh it up, ya jackals," Rick barked. "Ya made me drop my hotdogs," he longingly said staring at the now-ruined plate. Turning his attention back to Daryl, he glared at the man across the flames as he wiped as much ketchup off himself with the napkins Sasha kept handing him. He should really buy her some flowers or something for always having his back.

"Don't be such a hardass, Rick. Everybody gets pranked their first time in the woods with us," Merle said.

He wasn't so much mad as he was humiliated. Everyone had to have been in on it but him. How'd he miss that? Oh right...he was too busy staring at Daryl's fucking ripped arms to notice anything else. "I gotta go change," he said, sulking off to his tent.

He took out the flashlight he had stuffed in his back pocket and turned it on to light his way. The crickets were chirping loud as he crawled into his tent as they mocked him too. He rooted around for his bag and knew straight away that something wasn't right because it wasn't heavy enough. 

Shining the light inside the empty bag, he let out a long-suffering groan when he discover that his clothes were gone. "Really, Dixon?" The ketchup bottle was one thing, but to take his clothes on top of it was just too much!

Rick stormed back to the fireside, a little more enraged than he would've been if he hadn't been worn out from the long day and emotionally exhausting from balancing old memories with his lust-fueled feelings for Daryl.

"Where the hell are they?" he hotly asked as he stopped in front of Daryl. He had one hand on his hip and the other tightly gripping the flashlight.

"Where are what?" Daryl asked nonchalant, taking a bite of one of his hotdogs. And if Rick hadn't been so worked up with anger, he might've busted a nut at the fact that Daryl was eating the damn thing at cock level.

"Ya know _what!_ My clothes! What'd ya do with 'em?" Rick demanded to know.

"I didn't do anything with your clothes," Daryl mumbled with his mouth full.

"You expect me ta believe that?" he asked with an incredulous snort of derision. "Ya explode a whole bottle of ketchup on me _then_ my clothes magically disappear and I'm _not_ supposed to blame the most likely suspect?" 

"It was only half a bottle, and yeah, 'cause it wasn't me," Daryl bit back as he stood. He was starting to get upset that Rick was accusing him of something he damn well didn't do.

"Maybe it was somebody else," Merle quietly suggested, his eyes covertly shooting over to Shane.

"Yeah?" Rick scoffed. "Who, Casper?"

"Well, like I said, it wasn't me," Daryl insisted. Sure, he'd thought about ripping the man's clothes off a time or two but he wasn't some sort of pervert who went around stealing them. That sounded more like Merle.

"I don't have the energy to play games right now, Daryl, just give me my damn clothes back so I can eat and go ta bed," he spat.

"Are ya deaf? When's the last time I fucked with ya without admittin'? Huh? Never. So why don'cha stop accusing me of somethin' I didn't do and go find the real thief," the younger man hissed in his face.

"If it wasn't you, then who was it?"

"How should I know? Why don'cha play cop and go investigate and leave me alone so I can eat in peace?"

Rick narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. "You expect me ta believe ya had nothin' ta do with it?"

Daryl didn't answer, instead he picked up his hotdog from the plate and made a show of stuffing it in his mouth as he stared Rick down. The crowd was silent as they watched the scene unfolding, the tension rising with every passing second.

"You're a pain in my ass, Dixon," Rick grumbled as he snatched the hotdogs from Daryl's plate and hand then stormed away, completely unaware of how much the hunter really wanted to be.

He went back to his tent and zipped himself inside while he ate Daryl's hotdogs. He probably would've laughed at that if he hadn't been so frustrated. Maybe Daryl didn't do it. He was right, he usually took pride in the pranks he pulled against him. What if he was set up? Everyone knew Rick would blame him first.

"Rick?" Michonne called a few minutes later. "Found your clothes. I don't think it was Daryl."

He groaned as he unzipped the tent, "Yeah, I know."

"Think it was Shane and Merle. They probably didn't mean nothing by it, just didn't admit to it 'cause, well, I guess Daryl is better at taking on your wrath," she chuckled, handing over the trash bag Shane had stuffed his clothes in.

"I have wrath?" he asked back.

"No, just meant Daryl knows how to handle you."

That, he had to laugh at because he wished. He doubted false accusations would help with that. The whole thing was probably pointless anyway because he didn't have the slightest idea on how to romance a man, a presumably straight one at that. And no way would Daryl be interested in a dumbass like him.

Everything had been so easy with Lori and everything with Daryl was so frustrating. Perhaps that was a sign it wasn't meant to be because it seemed like every two steps forward came with one step back, like he was trying to read a map upside down. And now, he screwed up yet again and was hiding out in his tent like a coward.

"Why don't you change and come back for s'mores?" Michonne suggested.

"Should probably apologize, too," Rick sighed.

"Wouldn't hurt," she smiled, her pearly whites illuminated by the moon light.

"Merle wasn't lyin'," he snickered, "There really is a full moon tonight." He got a one finger salute for that as Michonne walked away. 

He quickly changed and decided to say "good night" to Carl before he rejoined the group. 

_[Rick]: U n bed yet?_

_[Carl]: Almost. How was dinner?_

_[Rick]: Terrible. Got pranked and every1 laughed. :(_

_[Carl]: How?_

_[Rick]: Daryl rigged a ketchup bottle to explode all over me._

He could practically hear the kid laughing from all the way from out in the boondocks.

_[Carl]: Any1 get pix??? Vids??_

"Shit," he cursed to himself. He hoped not but he hadn't thought to ask.

_[Rick]: Pbly_

_[Carl]: Srsly, dad I need copies!_

_[Rick]: Miss you_

_[Carl]: Miss u 2 dad_

_[Carl]: But srsly I NEED copies!_

_[Rick]: Nite, kid._

_[Carl]: Nite, dad. We'll think of a way 2 get him back :-)_

Rick had a smirk on his face from their exchange as he headed back, but it was quickly replaced with a glare when Daryl came into view.

"Found your clothes?" Bob asked, breaking through some of the tension that had settled in around them.

"Yeah, Michonne found them," Rick replied, turning his attention to the woman sitting on Merle's lap.

"Are ya Daryl's accomplice, Michy?" Shane asked, attempting to stir up trouble and keep the attention off him. 

"Nope, just found the bag out behind the RV...after I watched you walk back there," she narrowed her eyes at him.

So that backfired on him. "It was just a joke," Shane admitted.

"And what? Ya thought it'd be fun ta let me take the blame?" Daryl growled at him.

"Well, I didn't think he'd go postal on ya," he shrugged.

"Shoulda been you, Walsh, but ya jus' kept yer mouth shut and let my baby brother take the blame," Merle chided, shaking his head.

"Oh shuddup Merle, it was your idea," Shane hissed.

"I said get the man's boxers not his entire wardrobe."

"What the hell did ya want with my boxers?" Rick screeched, horrified eyes snapping to the Captain.

"Jus' gonna prank ya. Point is: ya got yer clothes back, Daryl didn't do it, an' now we can all get on with our lives."

"Sorry I accused you, Daryl," Rick mumbled.

"Yeah, well, newsflash Grimes, looks like I'm not the only one who likes ta piss ya off," Daryl snapped back. 

"You gotta admit, Daryl, you are the number one suspect when it comes to Rick," Michonne interjected in.

"Ain't my fault the man has a target on his back," he barked. "No wonder he's got an arsonist after 'im."

"Fuck you!" Rick roared. He knew the bastard was after him, but he didn't need people reminding him of it, and certainly didn't need people ridiculing him for it, especially not Daryl.

"Daryl," Merle admonished. Worst part of his job was playing referee and babysitter to grown ass men.

"What? He started it!"

"'N I'm finishin' it." 

"Ya don't think I know that, Daryl?" Rick said more than asked. "Ya don't think I feel directly responsible for every single one of the lives that bastard has taken? Their blood that's on my hands 'cause some asshole has decided ta fixate on me for reasons I don't even have the first clue about? Ya think I need reminding of that? 'Cause I don't."

Daryl's head dropped slightly as did his eyes when he went from glowering at the man to staring into the fire. He hadn't thought about that, about the toll everything was taking on Rick, and he just poured salt into his wounds, rubbed it in his face. Why'd he always keep fucking things up?

"Did ya ever stop and think that maybe the reason I wanted ta stay on Truck was so you wouldn't have to go running into my mess?" Rick continued, his hands on his hips while he stared Daryl down, but Daryl couldn't look at him. Rick had been trying to protect him and he had been more concerned with winning than paying attention. Christ, he was an idiot!

"That's why. And so I'd be there ta help instead of standing on the sidelines twiddling my thumbs hopin' to god that you'll all come back out in one piece, hopin' that one of ya'll doesn't get caught up in a trap that was set for me. And you're gonna throw that in my face like some sick joke, like I don't know what's at stake here?"

"Rick...we don't know if he's targeting you, not for sure," Glenn reasoned.

"Let's be honest here, we know, you may not have proof, but deep down you all _know_ it's me the bastard wants. Ya'll are jus' too afraid to say it to my face. But Daryl's not, are ya Darlin'?" Rick sneered.

"Maybe it ain't you, Rick," Daryl quietly replied, still not able to look at him. _Maybe I don't want it ta be you._

"Well, who else would it be? That Randall kid after Glenn?"

Daryl scoffed as he finally made eye contact with Rick again, "No, but le's just say me and Merle have our own suspect."

"Care ta share with the class?" Rick facetiously asked.

"No one ya know, which means it might not even be you he's after. So, until ya have some fucking proof, get off your high horse before ya get a nose bleed, 'cause not everything's about you!" 

"So we're jus' supposed ta leave it up ta 'Dixon & Dixon Private Dicks Extraordinaire?'" Shane teased, attempting to lighten the mood.

Rick just shook his head. He glared at Daryl one more time before turning away. "'M goin' to bed," he said.

"Awe, don't go man," Glenn pleaded. "You haven't even had any of your s'mores yet."

"I ain't hungry," he hollered back over his shoulder as he sulked back to his tent once more.

He was so fucking done with Daryl Dixon.


	19. Inferno

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Daryl face off in the woods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY! For fuck's sake! Over 18 chapters to the smut.
> 
> A huge thank you and many many hugs to [Ezabungles](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ezabungles) and [MermaidSheenaz](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MermaidSheenaz) for betaing this and assuring me that this lived up to that long ass wait when I just wasn't sure anymore. Hopefully you all agree! And thank you to everyone who's still in love with this fic as much as I am! It means so so very much!

Rick was the second one awake the next morning. He crawled out of his tiny hunter green tent to look around. He guessed it was about seven from the faint blue of the morning sky, but his phone had lost its charge after texting Carl the night before and he couldn't be sure. Not wanting to wake the others, he set out to take a nice morning stroll and enjoy a bit of solitude, maybe recharge from the exhausting events of the previous evening.

He walked a few minutes away from their camp and watered a bush before heading a little further into the woods. He missed the quiet natural beauty of the outdoors. That was one of the drawbacks of the big city. Back home, you could drive ten minutes and be out in the thick of it. In Atlanta, you drive ten minutes and you passed another McDonald's. 

A twig snapping behind him brought him out of his thoughts. He turned and was not too surprised to see Daryl leaning back against a big oak. The man was always right _there_ when he turned around. Always.

"Ya stalkin' me now, Dixon?" he challenged, crystal blue eyes narrowing on Daryl's darker hue.

"Huntin'," he corrected.

"Huntin' me?" Rick laughed incredulously, his head cocked to one side, hands casually on his hips, stare intensifying as he waited for an answer.

"Don't flatter yourself, Asshole. _You_ just stumbled across my path," Daryl lied. He had been coming back from relieving himself when he saw Rick going into the woods. He couldn't have said what compelled him to follow, but he did. Another lie; he was the fucking moth and Rick was his flame. And snapping that twig was deliberate. "Damn near scared off everythin' livin' thing in the area, you're so loud."

"Ya need somethin', Darlin', or can I continue on my walk?" Rick asked with a bored tone.

"By all means, continue. Just don't wander off and get yourself lost 'cause I ain't gonna waste my time trackin' ya down no matter how much the rest of those idiots like ya."

"Insultin' our brothers now? Why am I not surprised?" Rick said, rolling his eyes. "And don't worry, I'm not gonna wander off. You'd miss me too much," he winked, knowing that it would really piss the other man off. It did, but only because Daryl knew it wasn't done out of affection. Not this time, Rick was still fuming.

"Yeah, well just the same, ya best keep your wits about ya or ya might end up with an arrow in your ass," Daryl menacingly stated.

"That a threat?" Rick asked, the hair on the back of his neck going prickly as he moved closer to Daryl. He squared his shoulders and lifted his head slightly. He wasn't about to fight the man again, but he wasn't going to back down either.

Daryl reacted similarly, standing straight up from the tree he had leaned against, arms falling to the side after being crossed over his chest. The only eyes on them were from a squirrel that stood there watching, probably thoroughly amused at the scene unfolding before him.

"Nah, y'know I ain't got no use for threats. Just sayin' that if one of my bolts happens to make its way into your ass...oooppsss," Daryl hissed.

Rick knew that this could go one of two ways because, by this point, they were balancing on a pinhead. He could further antagonize Daryl by saying something about shoving a knife somewhere, his version of "oops", which might actually end up with them beating the shit out of each other. Again. 

Or, he could saying something flirty and highly inappropriate in an attempt to throw him off guard and disarm him, which could possibly lead the man to show his hand. Because goddammit, he was tired of not knowing where the hell this thing was going!

He went with the latter. If he crashed and burned, at least there wouldn't be witnesses. "Ya wanna stick something in my ass, ya gotta buy me dinner first," Rick said. Why he chose that, he wasn't sure, but it didn't worked in the way he intended. Or maybe it absolutely did.

"Bet you'd like that, huh? Takin' it up the ass," Daryl bit back, voice going low and sending a tantalizing pulse of electricity down Rick's spine as they inched closer to each other.

"Wouldn't know 'cause I'm straight, but if it was with you, I doubt I'd feel a thing," Rick countered, holding up his thumb and index finger with just a sliver of space in between, clearly meaning to imply that Daryl had a small penis. To emphasize his point, his eyes drifted down to Daryl's groin. And yes, his mouth went dry along the way. 

"Heh, ya wanna see it for yourself, Sweetheart? That what ya want? All ya had ta do was ask," Daryl mockingly cooed, moving into Rick's personal space. He wasn't backing down from this one, Asshole had won too many rounds already. 

And fuck, he just couldn't stand it anymore! He was either going to kiss the shit out of him or punch him in the damn face and walk away for good. At this point, he didn't care which just so long as it ended the fucking torturous stalemate they seemed to have locked themselves in, the limbo that had been inadvertently cast upon them.

Rick closed the remaining distance between them until their overinflated chests were touching slightly, ignoring the churning in his gut at the warmth of the younger man's body. His pulse was through the roof, and he had no idea where this thing was going. Everything had spiraled out of control quickly, adrenaline ruling supreme, his fight or flight response obviously stuck on the former. 

He wasn't quite sure what _it_ was but something was brewing, swirling in the air like smoke, thick and heavy on his skin. Were they about to fight again? Or was this some new territory they were venturing into? Either way, there would be no rescue, no one to pull them apart once it began. 

"Ya seem hellbent on gettin' me alone. Ya sure you're not the one that likes takin' it up the ass?" Rick taunted. They were so close that Rick could feel the puffs of air escaping Daryl's lungs on his lips, but he refused to analyze why that tingled.

"Fuck. You." Daryl said, emphasizing and drawing out each word.

"There ya go again. Tryin' ta get me into bed," Rick said, voice going soft and low of its own accord. 

The next several seconds were a blur. Rick couldn't say how it happened, when it happened, or who initiated the whole thing, but that didn't matter. What did matter was that Daryl was backed up against that tree and his thigh was wedged firmly between the hunter's legs, bodies pressed flush, hips grinding together on instinct. 

He could feel Daryl's tongue exploring his mouth, and it was better than in his dreams. A hand was desperately pawing at his ass pulling him closer and closer, and another was tugging on his hair, keeping their lips firmly fused at the seams. Daryl wasn't pushing him away, he was drawing him in deeper with every nimble roll of his tongue like he was quicksand, and Rick was slowly sinking into the depths of him.

That would have been the moment to end it, to stop whatever it was from going any further, to pull away and laugh it off, store it in a vault never to be opened again, but he couldn't. He just fucking couldn't. He needed to taste and touch, to feel, needed to be frozen in time in that moment because it was the closest thing to perfect he'd ever had; he couldn't give it up.

He thought the same could've been said of Daryl because Rick felt an unmistakable hardness against his leg that he was unfamiliar with but that he couldn't say was unpleasant. It didn't even register that Daryl was a man and that was his erect penis, he just needed to unwind the tension that was coiling in his bones because of it, because of...shit, because of Daryl.

Daryl gasped when Rick rolled their hips together because that was the only thing he could manage with his brain so riddled with lust. Rick wasn't pulling away which was confusing and spectacular at the same time. But he needed more, he needed release, he needed...shit, he needed Rick. 

Daryl gave no thought to his next move; the only thing that was important was freeing his aching erection from the confines of rough fabric. He undid his belt and unbuttoned his pants, moaning when Rick's lips fell down to his neck, scratchy stubble an odd thing to enjoy. He was too busy melting from the nibble on his pulse point to notice Rick's hand creeping down his chest and into his boxers to curl around his cock. 

But holy hell did that feel fan-fucking-tastic!

Daryl didn't know what to say, didn't dare to say anything, for fear of waking up from the dreamlike stupor he found himself in because it was so incredibly amazing, intoxicating, that it couldn't be real. The heat of Rick's body next to his, the taste of lips that were hot and soft and spicy-sweet, the flick of a wrist over the head of his cock, a wrist that wasn't his, that couldn't be anyone's but Rick's. 

Those were the most exhilarating things he'd felt in a long time, maybe even ever, and if he'd had time to think about it, he might've flipped out, pushed Rick away and ran because it was almost, _almost,_ too much. But there was no where to go, and he feared that there never would be again. That was both terrifying and arousing, and he didn't quite know why.

He had dreamed this. His body had started to ache for it, for Rick, to demand him, and he knew now that Rick felt it too. They had just been waiting for the stars to align, the Moon to find its center between the Earth and the sun so that they may be bathed in a blanket of heavenly beauty more rare than any eclipse could ever hope for.

When the fuck did he get so poetic?

He arched off the tree and into Rick's fisted hand when the man gave a good squeeze on his shaft that had his knees going weak and tattered moans pouring from his lips. Rick gave a few slow strokes, teasingly from base to tip, that nearly had him descending into madness from the pleasure—the dry burn easing a little when Rick smeared around his leaking precum with highly skilled fingers.

The teeth nipping at the sensitive spot on his neck were close to his undoing, but he wasn't about to let the man win this round, too. Not without a fight. It was Rick who was moaning when Daryl plunged a hand down the front of his pants, the other under his shirt right above his hip. Skin, he just needed to feel it.

This had been the last thing either had ever expected to happen when they woke up in their tents that morning, but here it was and it was inexplicably right. Rick released his grip on Daryl to undo his jeans. They slid down his thighs, sweaty skin rejoicing in the pleasant morning air.

Rick leaned back a tiny bit to catch his breath—hips refusing to separate from Daryl's and the lovely friction he found as they rutted against each other. When he looked in the other man's eyes, his breath caught in his throat at what he saw staring back at him because for the first time since they met, Daryl's eyes were filled was something other than hatred and the uncertainty that had slowly started to replaced it. 

He only saw lust and desire, want, _need_ , and fuck if that wasn't the most breathtaking thing he had ever seen in his life: flushed cheeks, swollen lips, glossy eyes, full-blown pupils. For a man who had only shown him the icy layers of his being, he sure was burning hot for him now. Daryl was going up in flames and Rick wanted to be consumed. 

Daryl refused to sever eye contact when he spit in his palm—both so used to doing everything with eyes connected after months of staring each other down. He swallowed thickly when Rick's quivering lips pulled his focus downward when cooling saliva met sweltering skin, one fluid soul mixing with another to quench their insatiable inferno. 

Or to stoke it.

He attacked those supple lips, nibbling and licking as they parted, sucking down all of Rick's heavy breaths like they held the last bit of oxygen in the universe, like he would suffocate without him. And he very well might've. He pulled Rick's head back by his hair to trail a line of open mouth kisses over his jawline. Rick smiled at the sensation of his own stinging lips, slightly singed by the other man's stubble. 

They both had the other's harden lengths in their hands and pumped with the same easy rhythm, tentative but eager, as they kept pace together. The angle was slightly off but it was familiar enough that they didn't have to think about it, about holding another man's cock in their hands for the first time. Thinking would have ruined it, and they couldn't have that.

It was like one of their aforementioned stare downs, baiting each other, goading the other to see which one would go to the pyre first, to throw themselves on top in offering, to burn away into nothingness only to be reborn out of the ashes, but even that didn't matter because neither would be the same after this no matter which way it went. 

This was out of their control, a boulder rolling down the side of a mountain, an avalanche pushed to its breaking point to crest and fall, the laws of physics the only thing making any sense at all: force, mass, acceleration, action, reaction, the splitting of atoms and the creation of stars. 

Magnetic fields. 

Gravity.

This was no longer the game they'd been playing since they met. That was over the second their chests came into contact, maybe even before. No, this was their reward: fingers sliding over foreign terrain, peaks and valleys, smooth planes and rough veins, trickles of precum and the involuntary bucking of hips.

There were no words either, only sandpapery grunts, sharp pants, and syrupy moans, a gasp when one bit the other as they fought for a dominance neither wanted to give up, or to win really. The sounds of the forest fell away and there was only skin against skin, lips against lips, hearts screaming in their cages, and breaths becoming more ragged with every downward stroke.

Rick's free hand, his left hand that had been glued to a boney hip, slid up the side of Daryl's body and curled around his broad shoulders to grip the apex of his opposite bicep. He pulled Daryl into him, clinging more closely than paint to a canvas, his forehead falling to rest on the other's shoulder as he willed his body not to collapse. 

Daryl understood, his hand working its way under Rick's t-shirt to the middle of his back to hold him tight, to hold him up, blunt fingernails digging into flesh and corded muscle, not thinking about the marks he'd leave behind because he knew that there was no such thing as past or future. There would only ever be right now.

"Rick?" Daryl breathed, airy and light, unwittingly breaking the silence. "I'm gonna...fuuuck." He couldn't continue, words failing on his tongue, the tongue Rick had just be sucking on. He was close, though, and he didn't want to lose again. But that was no longer of consequence as he slowly succumbed to the fiery pressure building up to a feverish tipping point of want in his belly.

Their hands sped up, both matching the other stroke for stroke, tumescent flesh pulsating beneath increasingly erratic palms as they worked each other over. Every inch of their bodies were covered in sweat from exertion, drenching their clothes and sending goosebumps breaking out over their skin when the crisp breeze blew over them. 

Daryl's head flew back—eyes closed tight as stars burst upon the black backdrop of his lids—and let out a cluster of broken syllables that could have only been interpreted as curses and Rick's name while he came, withering and disintegrating under the other man's touch, Rick's weight pinning him to the tree the only reason he was still standing on unstable legs.

"Fuck, Daryl," Rick purred, raspy voice like a symphony, a melody harmonizing with the surrounding forest. His teeth clamped down into the leather vest on Daryl's shoulder as he spilt out in the younger man's hand, muscles going stiff as orgasmic bliss turned his body rigid, a fervent grunt signaling his completion as he thrust one last time into Daryl's tight fist. 

And for a split second, he found a peace inside him that he'd never known before. But he let it go because he couldn't understand it, couldn't hold on to it. It slipped through his fingers just like Daryl's essence did, sticky and messy until he wiped it on his jeans to be forgotten until laundry day, to simmer in his hamper until he was forced to face it when the clean lies ran out. 

About a week from now for the jeans, less than three months for the peace.

He nuzzled into Daryl's neck as he slowed his breathing, neither willing to let go just yet, to end it, to severe their hold on the other. Because where would that leave them? What would that mean? What would that make them? And where would they go?

Rick moved first when he was finally able. It made sense that way since it was his body that was trapping Daryl against the tree. He pulled up his pants and buttoned them as fast as he could, then cleared his throat, turned his head a smidgen to look at the younger man through his periphery—anymore and they would've been doomed—and turned around to continue his walk.

Daryl stood there, leaning against the tree, refusing to think about anything, refusing to watch him go. His head fell back to the bark, sharp points digging into his scalp, as he sucked air into his spent lungs. He was satiated, a calming warmth bathing his body thanks to the chemicals from his endocrine system. And maybe something more.

The sunlight was just peeking through the treetops, white lines illuminating the forest around him with bright colors. The wind was rustling the branches full of green and drying the sweat that had accumulating on his brow. He swallowed hard, still tasting Rick on his lips when he wet them, then zipped up his pants and pushed away from the tree. 

_What the hell just happened?_

Did he dream that?

He didn't know where to go. Back to camp so he could wait for everyone to wake up, for Rick to come back? For a walk in the opposite direction to get as far away from him as possible? In the same direction because he was a damn stalker? To the lake to actually drowned himself? Because what the fuck did they just do? 

He just jacked a man off, rubbed the only cock he'd ever touched that wasn't his own.

That only served to leave him more confused than before, and he had been pretty fucking confused before. Rick wanted him. Rick kissed him and pushed him up against that tree. He had slammed his back into it and forced his way past his lips, shoved a knee between his legs. Rick moved first, won the draw. 

And now the man's come was rapidly drying on his hand.

Fuck! He lost again!

Asshole: 1

Darling: well, he did come, too...so maybe it was a tie.

Did that mean they were lover's now? It was good for him, better than good, it was incredible, but he had no idea how to tell if Rick felt the same. He did give the man an orgasm, so it couldn't've been that bad, could it? But would Rick want to do it again? 

God, he hoped so! 

Although, just because he thought it was fucking amazing didn't mean Rick did. What if he had been too rough, not rough enough? He felt like gay Goldie Locks searching blindly for _just right_ as he overanalyzed every single detail he could remember. Hell, he was in the damn woods and everything. 

Shit, was he gay now?

Was that damn squirrel judging him?

"Get the fuck outta here ya pervy squirrel!" he hollered to the lone creature staring back at him. Goddamn voyeur squirrels. "You're the one with the nuts in yer mouth, ya asshole!"

He picked up his crossbow that had been abandoned by the tree and decided to check the snares he set the day before. Maybe a few hours of hunting would help clear his head. And without Shane tagging along, he might actually be able to track something this time.

If only he could manage to keep the memory of Rick's hand on his cock off his mind long enough to concentrate....


	20. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Daryl try to deal with stuff and thangs.

Rick went straight back to camp and hid out in his tent for awhile after his _encounter_ with Daryl. It felt like all the built up tension of the past several months had been washed away, but he wasn't sure what was supposed to take its place or what would happen next. Was it a one time thing? Would Daryl want more? Would he want more?

It was pretty fucking amazing, he had to admit. He wasn't sure if Daryl had ever been with a man before, but if he hadn't, Rick was pretty fucking impressed. To dream it was one thing, to actually feel those fingers fluttering all around him was something else entirely. And he hoped what he had done for Daryl had been just as good.

The one thing that surprised him more than the fact that jacking the younger man off had been so fucking easy was the guilt that set in after. He knew Lori was gone forever, he understood that, but he couldn't help but feel like he had cheated on her in some way or desecrated her memory.

And what was worse was that things had never been that passionate with his deceased wife. Their sex life was great, but whatever that was up against the tree with Daryl was like an out-of-body experience. Mind-blowing; primal and animalistic. How was it even possible to feel that way with another human being, another man? It almost made him second guess everything he had with Lori, and that just wasn't fucking fair to her.

Now, he was laying on his sleeping bag as he stared up at the dark green ceiling of his tent wondering how he was ever going to look the man in the eye again after having his tongue down his throat and his come on his hand.

"Hey, Rick?" Glenn called through the fabric. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah, sure," he replied as he sat up and crossed his legs. He'd changed his jeans when he got back to the tent and hoped no one would notice that he was back in the same ones he was wearing last night during the ketchup incident. If he didn't tuck his shirt in, the stains might not show. Ketchup or come? Hard choice.

"How are you?" Glenn asked, sympathetic to the point Rick almost felt like he was being patronized, but he knew that wasn't what the young probie was trying to do.

"I was jus' tired last night is all. I overreacted a little," he admitted, rubbing a hand over his stubble, along the jaw Daryl had kissed and nibbled on not too long ago.

"If it makes you feel any better, they pranked us, too."

"And how'd they do that?" Rick asked, offering a small smile.

"Shaving cream in our sleeping bags. I stuck one leg in and my foot felt wet and sticky and I starting to freak out a little. Did you hear me last night?" Glenn laughed.

"I heard Maggie," he replied.

"Yeah, the jerks did the same to hers because we shared a tent and they wanted to make sure they got me either way. She was mad, too! She was demanding that Merle buy her a new sleeping bag, but then Shane brought out our real ones. Apparently, the ones with shaving cream were decoys. I would've hated to see Shane's face this morning if they hadn't been.

"Y'know, ya coulda given me the heads up on the ketchup thing," Rick grumbled. 

"I was going to, Rick! I swear, but Maggie said it was a rite of passage. She changed her mind after the sleeping bags, but I should've...I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's fine. It's in the past an' everything is just fine. Maybe next year, we'll get 'em all back. See how they like a taste a' their own medicine," he suggested.

"Daryl brought back a few rabbits, so the stew is on for lunch!" Glenn said excitedly.

Rick tried not to bristle at the mention of the other man's name. He had no idea if what happened earlier was like an apology or if they were still supposed to be angry at each other. It wasn't like he was really angry _at_ Daryl. It was just that he had a bad day. Everyone is allowed a bad day.

But throw in hand jobs in the woods, and everything was up in the air.

"Do you want to come out and play horseshoes with a few of us?" Glenn asked.

"Nah, I think I'm gonna head down to the lake for awhile," Rick said. Sitting on a beach sounded like a damn good idea.

"Okay, well if you change your mind, we'll be around." 

Rick nodded and watched the man exit. He zipped up his tent and changed into his swim trunks he had grabbed off the clothes line strung up between the RV and a tree. He had meant to take all the girls' underwear down that Shane and Merle obviously hung up, but then Daryl left his head all screwed up and he forgot.

Just as well, those idiots could use a little wrath.

*****

Tara had rounded everyone up for lunch when the rabbit stew was done. The plan was to start breaking down camp afterward and hit the road so that everyone would have some time at home to rest before their shift the next day.

When Daryl didn't sit by him at lunch in the spot that had been pretty obviously saved for him—they had all fallen into the same configuration they had around the table at the firehouse—Rick tried not to overthink it. That was pretty much impossible, though.

So many thoughts were running through his head that ranged from 'he hates me,' to 'did I do it wrong?' to 'I think we're gay'. And the fact that they hadn't talked since the incident or about what happened the previous night didn't help at all.

Needless to say, lunch was almost unbearable. Rick tried very hard not to watch him eat his stew, but that was damn near impossible when he was eating it mostly with his fingers, licking them clean after each and every bite, making little sucking noises that sent fresh heat pooling under Rick's skin. Then, after he'd fished out all the chunks, he'd tilt the bowl back and swallow the juices down, slurping up the liquid before going in for seconds.

He couldn't help it if he liked watching Daryl put things in his mouth! 

And oh god, that tongue! That tongue had been in his mouth! He was half convinced that Daryl was doing it on purpose, licking and sucking on those heavenly fingers that had his come on them not too long ago. Maybe they still did. But the one time their eyes met over their bowls, they both quickly averted them.

That was the point at which Rick had to excuse himself or things would've gotten awkward...well, more awkward. "Gonna take a walk," he announced before quickly scampering for cover in the woods. He had to cool his blood before he had an aneurism or something.

Their tryst against the tree should've ended this madness! What was happening instead was that he was getting hard again just thinking about those fingers curled around his cock, that wickedly delicious tongue licking the inside of his mouth, and those teeth nipping at his earlobe. 

***

Daryl watched Rick leave as he stalked away. He knew it was cowardly not to sit next to him at lunch, but he was finding it harder and harder not to throw the man down on the ground and kiss him in front of everyone. And now that they didn't have the stresses of work all around to distract him, it was an exercise in futility.

Not to mention the fact that he knew what it was like now to have those lips on his, that body pressing against him, those eyes, ink black and blue-rimmed, staring into his. And fuck, he just wanted more. It had only been five hours but he felt like a damn junky needing another hit.

He was half-tempted to follow him again, but he had no way of knowing if Rick would want him to. He knew the man had been watching him eat, but he was making a point not to look back at him, even though he wanted to. Because of course he couldn't, he just had Rick's cock in his hand! How could you look a straight guy in the eye after that? But they were both starting to look more and more bent by the second.

Just when he had made up his mind to follow, Merle hollered across the camp ground at him. "Hey Darlina? Come help me break down our tent."

"Fuck you, Merle! I didn't sleep in it. Get Michonne ta help ya," Daryl replied.

"She went with the girls down ta the lake."

"Fine!" he grumbled as he stomped over like a petulant child not getting his way. It was probably better that way, for it to have been a one-time thing, easier to forget, to reason away as a mistake, a moment of weakness. 

Shortly after breaking down camp, everyone loaded up the cars and headed back into the city. It was almost too much work for one night in the woods. Especially one night that ended badly. But as much as Daryl loved being out in nature, he was glad to be going home. In the city, he could pretend that whatever the hell happened up against that tree was just a wet dream or something.

"Ya'll back to fighting again?" Michonne asked from the front seat of the truck as she looked at Daryl in the rearview mirror. Merle was dozing in the passenger seat snoring away as they headed into the city. 

"When are we not fightin'?" he asked sardonically. Hell, it even felt like they were fighting while they were jacking it.

"It'll pass...then you'll find somethin' else to _blow_...out of proportion," she smirked.

He glared at her in the mirror. 

"Did ya try apologizing at least?" 

"Nah, ain't good at that y'know. Prolly woulda jus' fucked it up even more," Daryl mumbled as he stared out the widow.

"You really like him, don't ya?" asked Michonne.

"What? No, I don't," he insisted, his eyes shooting back to hers in the mirror. 

She shook her head and gave him the 'I know you're lying' look. He really should tell her, and it sounded like she already knew, or at least suspected something. So after releasing a long dramatic sigh, he nodded almost imperceptible. 

"For how long? Since day one?"

"I don't know, alright? I...ain't ever liked a guy before," he admitted out loud for the first time. And much to his surprised, the Earth didn't implode and hell probably didn't freeze over. Shit, it probably warmed up in anticipation of him. Satan putting another log on the fire. Asshole. 

"Ya kiss 'em yet?" she smirked.

"Christ, Michonne, what's with the interrogation?" he spat.

"Oh my god, you have!" She nearly swerved off the road in her excitement. "When? Where? Who kissed who? How many times? I can't believe you've been holding out on me, Dixon!" 

"Would ya stop your squawkin'? Yer gonna wake up Merle."

"No I won't, y'know how deep a sleeper he is, but if you don't spill your guts I'm gonna pull over and wake him up. He'll get the truth outta ya," she threatened.

"I swear ta god, Michy, if you tell 'im, we will never speak again," Daryl warned.

"Alright, I won't tell him. The poor bastard is as dense as a rock sometimes...now, back to this kissin' business."

"Well...I was gonna go apologize to 'im this mornin'—"

"This morning?! Oh god, this is just too much!"

"Ya can't tell anybody, Michonne! Swear to me that you won't," Daryl scowled at her through the mirror.

"I swear. My lips are sealed...but I'm pretty sure Tara knows, too," she replied.

"What? How?"

"It's kinda obvious."

"Who else?"

"I don't know. She's the only one that said anything to me about it. And it was just a brief little thing. She ain't gonna out ya'll," Michonne assured him.

"This don't mean nothin', okay? Don't go blowin' it outta proportion and plannin' our double Dixon weddin' a'right? Christ, he prolly still hates me right now for what I said last night, and I didn't even mean nothin' by it. I was jus' pissy, I guess."

"Did he kiss ya or did you kiss him?"

Daryl groaned and rolled his eyes, but a smile managed to works it way onto his lips anyway. "He kissed me," he said out the window.

"Well, he must notta been too mad about last night if he still kissed you. And ya didn't even apologize. Maybe when you do, you can get ya a piece a' that ass," Michonne grinned wide.

"Oh god! You've been spending way too much fuckin' time with Merle," he chided her.

"I think you may be right," she agreed.

*****

Carl wanted to hear all about the trip when Rick picked him up from Carol's. He spent the entire ride home asking him a million questions about how everything went. The kid had already decided on a way to get Daryl back for the ketchup incident and had started planning their own trip that Rick promised to take him on once school was out.

But when they pulled into their parking spot outside their apartment, his son's demeanor when from excited to serious. "Hey, dad? Is everything okay with you?" Carl asked before either had a chance to open their door. The kid really was too damn perceptive some time.

"Yeah, I'm fine...it's nothin'," Rick said, brushing him off. He had tried to hide the weird mood he'd been in all day, but he shouldn't've been surprised that his son picked up on it.

"Is it about your mystery woman?" Carl teased.

Rick scoffed and tried to change the subject by asking about Enid, the new girl that moved in down the hall from Carol and Sophia, but the kid didn't take the bait. 

"Did something happen?" the teen asked.

"I guess you could say that," Rick said. Carl sat there looking expectedly at him from the passenger seat. "We kinda...kinda had a fight." _And then I rutted up against him on a tree like a goddamn animal...._

"About what?"

"About work. Stuff was said that probably wasn't meant, but now it jus' feels like a big mess." He had decided not to tell Carl about the arsonist. It'd just make him worry and the kid had had enough of that for one lifetime already.

"Did ya'll apologize?" Carl asked.

"Not exactly," he replied. Unless you counted coming in each other's hands as some weird sort of apologetic handshake, which he didn't.

"Is it because of mom?" Carl said, bowing his head.

"Part of it, but it's not just that...and it ain't that simple," Rick said. He wasn't going to lie to his son, but he had been hoping to put this conversation off for as long as possible. Or at least until he knew where he stood with Daryl. Shit, he didn't even know if the man liked him back or if their romp in the woods was just a one time thing.

"Why? Because you work with her?"

"That's another part of it, but—"

"You're afraid she doesn't like you?"

"It's more complicated than that because—"

"Are you afraid she won't like me? Or I won't like her?" Carl rambled on.

"It's all those things, but mostly the last because I'm afraid you won't like... _him_ ," Rick finally spit out.

Then, all there was was the sound of metaphorical crickets chirping and Carl's rapid blinking.

"Are...are you gay?" Carl asked, his eyes wide in what Rick thought might've been intrigue as opposed to horror or disgust.

"I don't think so. I...I was only ever with your mother. I loved her very much, I always will, and she was all I thought I'd ever want. I didn't expect to have feelings for anyone again, let alone another man. It's taken me by surprise, the whole thing. And I understand if you're confused or shocked about it, because believe me kid, so am I."

"Soooo...you're bisexual?" Carl asked, curiously.

"Uh, I, um...I'm not sure," Rick tried to answer, but honestly he had no idea how to. He had spent the last few weeks asking himself that same question. "Is this something that would make you uncomfortable?"

Carl rolled his eyes, "Dad, please. I'm a child of the twenty-first century...I just want you to be happy...as long as _he's_ cool, and y'know, treats us right...It's Daryl, isn't it?" the kid smiled mischievously as he asked.

"How do ya always do that?" Rick smiled back, feeling his cheeks tinge slightly as he shook his head. 

"It was starting to get a little obvious dad. You only talk about him _all_ the time...," Carl said, rolling his eyes.

"I'm not that bad, am I?" Rick asked. 

Carl just scoffed and he chuckled at him. 

"Come on, kid, le's go inside."

"I'll check the mail," Carl said as they got out of the jeep. That was one of his jobs, but he was overly excited to do so recently because he was waiting for a new graphic novel to arrive that he'd bought with his allowance.

"I'll just take all these bags inside...by myself," Rick sarcastically called after him.

Carl came in a few minutes later with the mail from Friday and a scowl on his face. He smacked the mail down on the kitchen table and spoke before Rick could ask him what was wrong, even though he had a pretty good idea.

"He sent us another one," Carl grumbled, holding out a postcard that said "Wish you were here" written against the Atlanta skyline for Rick to take.

\------  
 _Dear Rick & Carl,_

_Nice weather we've been having here in King County.  
Come visit me at the cemetery next time you're in town._

_-Best Wishes,_  
Alex  
\------

Rick ripped the postcard into pieces and threw it in the trash, not wanting to dwell on it if he could help it. "How 'bout we order in?" Rick asked, reaching for the drawer they kept the takeout menus in. He was too drained to even think about attempting to cook. "You pick."

Carl's face was etched in stone, stoic, but Rick could see the undercurrent of frustration and anger masked beneath. The teen let out a heavy sigh but started to thumb through the menus anyway. He decided on Chinese. 

"I could order a pay-per-view," Rick suggested. 

Usually distraction was the best tactic after they received one of their monthly cryptic postcards. Good thing was it was still being routed through the King Count post office and forwarded to their new address. When the forwarding service ran out next month, he was sure they'd stop getting them.

"How 'bout the one with the cars?" Rick asked when Carl hadn't answered.

"Yeah, I guess," Carl shrugged as he slumped on the couch beside him. They both slipped off their shoes and propped their feet up on the coffee table. 

Rick ordered their food and they started the movie while they waited for it to be delivered. A movie night with his son always did him a world of good, and Carl wasn't the only one in need of a distraction tonight.


	21. Tick, Tick, Boom...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suspects are ruled out and "revealed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to MermaidSheenaz for beta-ing this and the next chapter. I don't think action is my strong suit and there's a bit of it here. Thanks, doll! xx
> 
> **Warning: There is a graphic scene depicting torture about halfway in at the jump to the basement. The jump actually says 'basement' in it so it should be easy to avoid. You won't miss much of the plot if skipped.

Daryl spent most of the night tossing and turning as he thought about what him and Rick had done in the woods. Half of that time was used to figure out just what he was going to say to the man the next morning when their shift started. However, when it came time to for it, instinct took over.

"Hey, Asshole," Daryl grumbled when Rick passed Merle's office with his box of donuts. Business as usual, like nothing had happened, would ever happen again.

"Merle, Daryl," Rick replied, sending Daryl's heart floundering when he didn't call him 'Darling.'

"Oh hey, Rick?" Merle called after him.

Rick came back into view and stood in the doorway, pointedly focusing on Merle. "What's up?" he asked.

"Yer back on Truck," the Captain said.

Both Rick and Daryl furrowed their brows in confusion.

"T-Dog called me las' night an' said he wanted ta switch after yer Oscar winnin' speech the other night," Merle explained. "That okay with ya'll or do I need ta send ya ta couples counselin' first?" he chuckled.

"'S fine," Rick said.

"Yeah, fine," Daryl replied.

"That it?"

"Yeah, tha's all," Merle said. Rick gave him a nod and continued on.

*****

After donuts and coffee, the morning went rather routinely save for the fact that Rick and Daryl kept their distance, avoided eye contact, and didn't say so much as a word to each other outside of Merle's office. Rick was starting to get frustrated with how easily they kept sliding back into that awkward brooding with each other after every little skirmish.

Of course on shift wasn't the best time or place to have any sort of talk about what happened the day before, and Rick was more than happy to put off discussing the topic because deep down, he was afraid that Daryl would say that it was a mistake, that it didn't mean anything, or that it wasn't as amazing as he found it to be.

What if it had just been about the release for Daryl? He liked the man, he could admit that to himself. Hell, he admitted it to his kid, but was he ready to put himself out there and admit it to Daryl? To lay his feelings on the line and risk the possibility of being rejected, of having to switch shifts with Phillip out of humiliation?

No, he most certainly was not.

*****

Over a week and three shifts had passed since the house camping trip and Rick and Daryl hadn't said so much as a 'hey' to each other that wasn't strictly work related. Everybody assumed it was because of the fight they had, but it was because Daryl had no fucking idea what to say to him.

Luckily, the week had been slow and they hadn't had to work too closely, but Daryl would lay awake at night reading and rereading a million different versions of an apology text that he hoped would help; he just didn't have the balls to press [send]. The silence, the distance between them was starting to feel like the goddamn Grand Canyon, and he hated every inch of it.

An hour before lunch on their fourth shift posttreehumping, Daryl and Merle's number one suspect strolled into his old office. Merle had offered him a friendly invitation to drop by and see everyone, which was just a ruse so they could have a chance to feel him out.

"I like what you've done with the place, Merle," Joe drawled with an insincere grin hovering at the edges of his mouth as he looked around.

"Oh, hey Joe!" Merle smiled back as he stood to shake his hand. "I know it's a mess, but this arson case has us pretty wound up, y'know?"

"Think I mighta heard somethin' about that," Joe replied. "Daryl," he said, turning to address the younger Dixon, "I see you're healthy an' back on the job."

"Mhmm," Daryl hummed an affirmative. His arms were crossed over his chest and he didn't bother extending a hand for the former captain to take. He had never gotten a long with Joe and he never understood how Merle could, even if he was just faking it.

"So how's my job treatin' ya?" Joe asked, turning his attention back to Merle.

"'S fine, Joe. I, uh, I ain't had no problems so far. Ya ran a tight ship and I'm jus' followin' your example."

"How's _retirement_ treatin' ya, Joe?" Daryl countered. Merle shot him a 'Don't fucking antagonize the arsonist' look that he ignored.

Joe laughed at his loaded question, his yellow teeth peaking out from under his rough looking salt and peppered beard, and his beady eyes always held something sinister behind them, even on his best day. Daryl could smell the bourbon on his breath all the way from the wall he was leaning against behind Merle's desk. _Fuckin' drunk bastard._

"Well, it leaves me with plenty a' time ta drink, tha's fer damn sure," Joe almost snarled back. "Care if I go say 'hi' to the gang?"

"Nah, go right ahead, Joe," Merle answered as he went to lead the way.

Rick was upstairs helping Morgan and Michonne with lunch—and by help, he was stirring a sauce pot which was all anyone really trusted him with—when Merle and Daryl came up the stairwell with a stranger.

"Who's that?" Rick whispered to Michonne as he nodded in the trio's direction.

"That's Joe. He was the captain before Merle got promoted. Someone called in a complaint to HQ and turned him in for being drunk on the job," she explained. "Then, they fired him and gave Merle his job."

"That's why we call him 'Boozy Joe'," Morgan added.

"Ya didn't hear this from me, but rumor has it, Dare's the one who turned him in. Now, he has never admitted it, not even to me, but those two were never friendly," Michonne whispered.

"Daryl rattin' on someone to HQ? No?" Rick mockingly said, remembering the time the dumbass turned him in for breaking down on a call.

"Hey! You guys see who jus' walked in?" Shane quietly said as he came up to steal a piece of garlic bread.

"Yeah, we saw," Michonne said rolling her eyes.

"It's Dixon & Dixon's number one suspect, I betcha."

"That's their suspect?" Rick chuckled. "Ya'll really think a booze hound like him could take on a whole family?"

"If he wasn't loaded, maybe," Shane said. "Probably, if he had a gun on the kids. I mean, ya really gonna take on a guy with a gun if he's pointin' it at Carl?"

"No, probably not," Rick conceded.

"Didn't think so," he replied before bitting off a chunk of the garlic bread he snagged. Shane walked away just as Merle and Joe walked into the kitchen. Daryl was straggling behind.

"Hey, Joe," Michonne greeted. "Are you plannin' on staying for lunch?"

"Tha's mighty kind of ya, but I have somewhere I need ta be in an hour or so. Jus' stopped by to say 'hi' and see how ya'll've been fairin' without me," Joe replied.

"Maybe some other time then," she nodded.

Rick could see why the two brothers suspected him. The man gave off a weird vibe that made him feel uneasy. So, he smiled and went back to stirring the spaghetti sauce. He was pretty sure there was a joke in there somewhere about his 'love' for tomato products, but luckily for everyone, it was left unspoken.

"This another one a' yer probies?" Joe snickered as he looked Rick up and down, scrutinizing him.

"Ha, nah, he's a transfer," Merle explained. "After Otis...," he trailed off. The rest of the words didn't need to be said.

"I was sorry ta hear 'bout that. He was one a' the good ones."

"Yeah, he was...," Merle agreed. "Well, ya wanna go have a look at the rigs? We jus' got some new radios put in...finally."

When the two had walked away, Daryl came up and whispered something to Michonne. Then, he grabbed a piece of garlic bread and took a bite out of it just like Shane had done. Except this time Rick's throat nearly closed up as he watch out of the corner of his eye.

He literally choked on his own spit when Daryl's teeth tore a chunk of bread off because it sent a flash of memory racing across his mind of just how it felt to have those teeth scraping along his neck. Everyone turned to look at him with concern. Well, Daryl only shot him a quick glance before rushing along after his brother and their suspect.

Morgan slapped him on the back a few times to help clear his airway. "'M okay, I'm okay," Rick coughed, waving the man off. Michonne gave him a funny look, but he once again turned back to the sauce and stirred until it was ready to be served.

 

**In a basement somewhere in Atlanta**

"I didn't do nothing, man!" Randall whimpered, his face a mangled, bloodied mess of deep purple bruises and inflamed tissue. One of his eyes was completely swollen shut, his lips were puffy and split to pieces, he had a few teeth knocked out, and no doubt multiple fractures in his nose and ribs.

Randall hadn't gotten a good look at the guy. The man had some sort of mask on at first when he jumped him and shoved him in the trunk of his car, but now his vision was so blurry and distorted from the beating that he probably wouldn't've been able to identify his own hand an inch in front of his face.

He had no idea how long he'd been held prisoner in that dusty basement, but he would've guess a few days. How the man found him, he didn't know. He'd been laying low since the fire, but the guy managed to find him when the cops couldn't. Now, he wished they would've gotten to him first.

"Why did you set your house on fire?" the stranger asked, his voice too fucking calm for the circumstances.

"I didn't! I swear!"

The man yanked his head back by the hair and asked, "Why do you keep lying to me?"

"I'm not!! I swear to ya, it wasn't me! It, it was that arsonist guy. He did it! I saw 'im hangin' around my house before I left. Then, he killed my parents and set the fire. So ya got the wrong guy. I would never do something like that! Ya gotta believe me," he pleaded.

"You're sure it was the arsonist from the tv?"

"I swear on my momma's grave!"

"So you must've gotten a good look at him, huh?" the man laughed.

"N-n-no," Randall whimpered again.

The man drew his hand back as a shiny set of brass knuckles attached to his fingers connected with Randall's face, the sickening crunch of metal on cheekbone echoing off the damp walls as he frowned down at his captive.

"I'm gonna ask you one more time. Before you answer, you should know that _I_ am the arsonist from the tv," he growled as he punched Randall again before pushing back the chair he was strapped to. Randall hit the concrete floor hard with a thud, all the air expelled from his lungs. "Why are you stealing my spotlight?" he asked, looming above him.

Randall hadn't meant for any of this to happen. He was having a fight with his mom when he went and got his father's gun. His intention was to scare her into changing her mind about sending him to rehab. He didn't really have a problem, he was just in a bad place at the moment after getting kicked out of the fire academy thanks to that asshole Glenn Rhee.

The gun went off on accident when he was waving it around. He didn't even know it was loaded. His dad woke up from his nap and rushed upstairs at the noise. The older man was yelling as he charged him, and Randall shot him in panic. Then, he set the fire hoping the police would think it was the arsonist he heard about on the news.

"I-I-I, d-didn't m-mean to," stuttered a wheezing Randall as he tried desperately to refill his burning lungs. "I'm s-sorry! Please jus' let me go. I didn't even see your face. I, I won't tell promise!" Randall begged.

"Oh, I think we can do better than that, my firebug friend," the arsonist snickered as he headed for the workbench nearby. He picked up a gnarly looking knife and held it up in front of Randall's face, the blade catching light from the lone bulb swaying from the ceiling. "You wanted the spotlight? Well, why don't we put you at centerstage?"

The man cut off Randall's sweaty, bloodstained shirt teasingly slow. He ignored the captive's whimpers and pleas to be set free and instead lightly guided the tip of the knife over his skin in random patterns. Then, he began to cut, Randall's cries of pain egging him on until the kid finally passed out.

 

**Back at Firehouse Twelve**

The 'prison' shift had just sat down for dinner when _the_ call came in. Everyone rushed for their rigs and Rick had to follow Daryl into the truck, not that he minded the view. Shane was their chauffeur and Glenn was up front with him. As soon as they were out of the hanger, Maggie relayed that someone called in and reported seeing Randall going into the house they were heading to.

They all collectively tensed when a heavy cloud of fear settled into the rig. Rick and Daryl finally made eye contact that wasn't just a fleeting glance as they made a silent truce, or what have you, to put aside their stalemate in order to work together to get the job done.

"Randall?" Daryl said more to himself than the others. "Me an' Merle were so sure it was Joe."

"What if they're working together?" Shane asked.

"Or what if they're working alone but are both just fucking crazy?" Glenn suggested.

Rick kept quiet. Speculation and conspiracy theories would get them nowhere. He didn't know what the hell was going on here, but his gut was nagging at him, telling him to watch his back on this one. God, he was so fucking ready for them to catch this guy.

They pulled up to the curb, and the first thing they noticed was that the lush green grass had been set on fire, but clearing the house was their first priority. Engine would take care of the yard while they went inside for search and rescue since someone had reportedly been seen entering, even though that person was potentially their arsonist.

They quickly got busy strapping into their gear. Rick noticed that there wasn't much smoke coming from the house, which was surprising, but that didn't always mean a fire would be simple to extinguish. As soon as they opened the door the added oxygen could stoke the flames and create a backdraft.

Glenn was helping him with his oxygen tank when Rick noticed a crowd gathering across the street. And dead center was Pete. His camera was raised but he lowered it to wave at Rick. Rick nodded back as he tried not to read into his presence. The man was just taking pictures for the paper, he reminded himself.

As soon as the four scurried inside, Rick knew something was off. There was a little bit of smoke, but not nearly enough for the size of the fire that should've been raging by now. Him and Shane took the upstairs while the other two were to investigate the source of the fire.

Daryl led Glenn towards the kitchen where the smoke was emanating from. What they found instead of the expected raging fire set with gasoline was an old rusted metal barrel in the middle of the room containing a small fire that was probably made of leaves or something meant to burn low and produce a lot of smoke.

"Why didn't he set the kitchen on fire?" Glenn asked.

"Hell if I know," Daryl replied. He was starting to get a very bad feeling about this call. "Hey Engine, we just got a small fire in a fuckin' barrel in here. Prolly could put it out with just an extinguisher." _...so we can get the hell outta here._

 _"A what?"_ Morgan asked.

"A barrel, like a metal barrel, like they use in the boondocks ta burn trash. Y'know, a damn barrel!"

 _"Roger that, I think I got it,"_ the older man replied dryly.

There was a fire extinguisher placed conveniently by the door. Daryl picked it up and put out the practically nonexistent flames. "Alright, fire's out," Glenn said.

Upstairs, Rick and Shane had made it to the master bedroom and hacked open the locked doors, just like usual, but on the other side, things were anything but. In the middle of the room was a family of four, but this time, they weren't tied up to each other but fastened to the legs of a chair. There was hardly any smoke in the room and obviously no second ignition point.

"SHIT! We got five people up here in the master! And one's our suspect. Looks like he's been beaten up pretty bad." Shane relayed through the radio. "Glenn, Dare, get your asses up here! I also need a fifth."

 _"Copy that,"_ Daryl said.

 _"On my way,"_ Tyreese radioed back.

 _"Ya need me?"_ Bob asked.

"Might as well. Fire's out, right Dare?" Shane asked.

 _"Yeah, but it was contained anyway,"_ Daryl replied from halfway up the staircase.

"Oh god!" Glenn exclaimed when him and Daryl made it into the bedroom.

Randall was tied to a chair in the middle of the room and the family was placed around him. His shirt had been removed, and carved into his torso was a one-word message: _Imposter_

"Are they dead?" Daryl managed to ask.

"I think they're all alive just appear to be unconscious, even Randall," Rick explained. "Jus' grab one an' go."

All four of them did what he said and grabbed a family member. They passed Ty on the way up and Rick pointed out where to go and said he'd be back in to help in a minute or two. He was the last out and gently laid the father on the ground for Sasha to look over.

"Smoke inhalation?" Michonne asked as she worked over one of the children, a young boy around ten.

"There was hardly any smoke upstairs," Shane replied.

"The window in the kitchen was open, probably to let some of it out," Glenn said.

"The father has a nasty head wound but nothing that would've caused unconsciousness," Sasha said. "Could they've been drugged? Their airways seem to be clear."

"Wha's the word?" Merle asked as he joined the group huddled around near the family.

"Family of four, unconscious and it doesn't appear to be from smoke, the fire in the kitchen was set in a barrel and hadn't spread—Daryl put it out easily—and our number one suspect has been beaten to a bloody pulp and is also unconscious. Bob just went inside to help Ty bring him out," Shane reported.

"We got another ambulance en route and a few police units comin' to handle the gawkers," said Morgan.

"Whoever did this, whoever our arsonist really is, was wanting to make a statement here. Randall has a message carved into his chest," Rick added.

"Hey Rick?" Tara called from on top of the engine. "That wasn't the only one," she said, nodding to the grass. Rick and Merle quickly climbed up onto the rig to her vantage point. "I think we found that proof Daryl was asking you about."

From higher up, the message burnt onto the lawn was clear: Rick, your ass is grass

Rick's shoulders tensed. He'd known it all along, but there it was, written out in front of him in giant ass scorch marks on an innocent family's lawn. This guy was after him and there was no denying it now. He turned around and scanned the crowd to look for Pete, but the man was gone.

Him and Merle climbed down off the rig and rejoined the group. Rick told them what the message said and everyone gave him sympathetic looks, but he was too busy staring into Daryl's calmingly blue eyes to notice anyone else's.

"Well, I think that rules out Joe," Merle said.

Rick just scoffed and resecured his mask as he headed back in to help Bob and Ty.

Daryl had turned to follow, attempting to shout an "And Randall" back over his shoulder. Before he could finish the "—all", the house rumbled like thunder in front of him, the glass windows on the front of the house sparkling like vertical raindrops as they were expelled outward, and the ground shook violently under his feet. For a splitsecond, he thought that the Earth had fissured so that hell could swallow them up. In seconds, he'd think that that wasn't far off.

But before anyone could say a word, there was a mad dash to the door.


	22. ...Goes the Dynamite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Picking up the pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even though they're canon, I'm going to warn for not too graphic descriptions of bodily injuries.

Rick wasn't exactly sure what had happened. As soon as he broke the threshold, there was a bright flash followed by a loud boom that had his ears ringing like church bells on Sundays. He was knocked back against a wall by a wave of intense heat that blanketed him and would've had him giving some serious consideration to the idea that he'd died and gone to hell if he had been clearheaded enough to actually think. Instead, he slid down the wall where tried to shake the disorienting dizziness out of his head and the speckled spots of white out of his vision.

He heard someone calling his name, but it sounded like they were miles away, a muffled jumble of r's and k's. His mask was taken off, and after his pupils readjusted to the darkened house, blue eyes awash with fear and worry were staring into his.

There was smoke and dust wafting in the air and the staircase was completely gone in front of him—a hole the only reminder of where it should've been. He could hear Tyreese and Bob moaning and screaming through the radio but he couldn't see where they were.

A "You okay?" eventually filtered through the tinnitus as he realized Daryl was bent over him, both hands clutching the front of his jacket. "Rick, fuckin' answer me, dammit?!" Daryl begged, voice probably closer to a whimper than the demanding tone he had been aiming for.

"'M...'m okay," Rick nodded, wincing at the pain in his head that the movement caused.

"I'll get Michonne."

"Nah...no, I'm alright. Jus' help me up," he said.

Daryl stood and pulled Rick up with both hands, cursing the fucking gloves they were wearing but thanking whoever invented their suits that Rick was okay, or appeared unharmed at least. "Le's get ya outside."

"No, they need help," Rick protested.

" _You_ need help, ya need to get checked out, alright?"

Daryl was seriously contemplating tossing Rick over his shoulder and carrying him out, but someone yelling _"BASEMENT!"_ through the radio had that thought forgotten in favor of both of them rushing into the hall in search of a door that lead downward.

They hauled ass down the stairs—Rick following a blur of yellow that was Daryl through the haze. Glenn and Shane were already shuffling through the rubble where Tyreese's legs could be seen sticking out. Some of the debris was still slightly flaming. T-Dog called for Tara to bring him a fire extinguisher so he could put it out while everyone else worked rescue.

Randall's lifeless body was off to the side and Morgan, shaking his head, informed them that the kid was dead. "Think his neck was snapped in the fall."

Bob's bloodcurdling cry was probably heard well into the next county and was echoing through the radio. "BOB! Come on, ya gotta stay calm for me, brother!" Daryl frantically ordered. "Rick?" he pleaded, and Rick didn't need to be told what he was asking for as they both starting shifting through the debris, adrenaline erasing the throbbing in his head and back out of his mind.

"My leg! Oh god, it hurts!" Bob cried.

"I got 'im. I see his hand. Bob, we got ya okay, ya just gotta stay calm," Rick tried to tell him as reassuringly as possible. Him and Daryl lifted the last piece of the staircase that was pinning him down and both paled when they realized that his leg was missing.

"MICHONNE, I NEED YOU RIGHT FUCKING NOW!" Daryl yelled.

Rick and Daryl dropped to their knees and Rick pulled out a piece of rope he had in one of his pant pockets. He quickly tied the rope right above the now severed limb to stem the bleeding.

"Michonne, bring a board...no, two. Are the other rigs here yet?" Rick asked.

 _"Yeah, they're working on getting the family moved,"_ Michonne replied.

"We're gonna need some more help, and don't you let Sasha in, ya hear me? Bob and Ty are both gonna need a ride."

 _"What the hell's goin' on in there, Rick?"_ Sasha's voice bellowed through the radio, but everyone ignored her, not able to respond, not sure of what to say.

"We got 'em, okay?" Rick tried to assure her through the radio.

"Where the fuck is it?" Daryl whispered to Rick, clearly talking about the severed leg.

"I don't know, but look around. They might be able to reattach it," he replied before looking over his shoulder at Shane and Glenn, "How's Ty doin' over there?"

"His arm's pinned. We can't move 'im. Morgan went to get some tools to extricate 'im," Shane answered. "How's Bob?"

Rick quietly told him that his leg was missing.

"What the hell happened?" Merle asked, his face hard and fierce as he descended the stairs to examine the scene.

"Don't know," Ty said shakily, "...stairs just fell out from under us."

Michonne finally made it downstairs with two EMTs trailing behind. "Oh god!" she gasped when she saw the devastation of the basement and Bob's missing limb. She quickly composed herself, switching back into first responder mode, and her and the EMTs made their way to Bob to start stabilizing him for transport.

After his wound was sterilized and bandaged, they strapped him down to one of the boards, and Rick helped the EMTs carry him up to a waiting ambulance. Sasha went a little hysterical when she noticed his leg was missing, but Rick was able to calm her down.

"Ya gotta be strong for him, okay? He needs you to be calm. His vitals are good and Daryl's looking for his leg right now," Rick spoke softly as he held her back while they loaded him into an ambulance.

"W-where's Tyreese? What about Tyreese?" she asked, tears welling in her wary eyes.

"His arm is stuck, but they're extractin' him right now. You go with Bob and we'll be right behind ya'll, alright?"

"They're gonna be okay?"

"Everything'll work out," Rick assured her, hoping that he would be right. He helped her into the rig and went back into the house to help where he could. Merle was going in the opposite direction through the hallway talking on the phone to what was probably the Arson team.

Morgan and T-Dog met him at the top of the stairs. "They got him free but I don't know if his arm'll be salvageable. It looks pretty messed up," Morgan sighed.

"They find Bob's leg?" Rick asked.

"Nah, and if it was a bomb, they might not. The APD bomb squad is on their way to investigate," T-Dog replied.

"They need anymore help downstairs?"

"No, everyone's on their way up," Morgan said. Rick nodded and they headed outside.

"Give yer statements to the cops then get on yer rigs, I want ya'll outta here ASAP. I'm pullin' everyone after this shitstorm. Woodbury's takin' over an' doin' a double," Merle instructed. No one had to be told twice as they quickly scattered.

*****

The ride back to the house was completely silent. There were just no words. The firehouse was pretty much the same way. When people did speak, it was in a near whisper. Everyone quickly prepared to leave with the intention of going to the hospital to keep vigil. Bob and Tyreese would both need surgery.

Michonne was bringing the ambulance back after dropping Sasha and Bob off at the hospital, and her and Daryl were going to ride back together. Rick had been the first to leave and Daryl was worried about him. The man had been harboring so much guilt before, and he had no way of knowing how what happened today would effect him.

Daryl didn't bother changing out of his uniform, but Michonne had to. There was just too much blood—their brothers' blood no less—on her clothes not to. He had started pacing as he waited when Phillip came upstairs with the face of a man on a war path.

"Thought ya said he could keep ya'll safe," Phillip growled low, his perfect teeth more like a welcomed target as Daryl lunged, Shane, Morgan, and Martinez's quick reaction time and convenient proximity to the two the only things that kept them in his mouth.

"You shut yer goddamn mouth, motherfucker!" Daryl raged as Shane dragged him away. "Ya don't know what the hell yer talkin' 'bout, ya dumbfuck!"

"What the hell's goin' on out here?" Michonne asked, rushing out of the locker room in her civvies.

"That asshole's talkin' shit about Rick! We don't need that bullshit today...not today," Daryl snarled as he stormed off towards the stairs.

"Here," she said, tossing him her keys as she glared in Phillip's direction, "Go wait in the car. I'll be down in a minute."

"Bes' watch what ya say, Blake, or next time I might knock yer damn teeth in," he threatened Phillip before he turned and flew down the stairs.

Twenty minutes later Daryl pulled Michonne's car into the parking garage at Grady Memorial and they headed inside to the drab taupe colored ER waiting room. It was already pretty full of their fellow brothers and sisters in uniform. Most were from House Twelve but there were people from other houses that came to offer their support.

Tara and Rosita were consoling Sasha who had a group gathered around her. There were other smaller groups huddled together throughout, some from their shift intermixed with Red shift. A few police officers were taking more statements and the department chaplain, Father Gabriel, was going around from group to group offering counsel.

Daryl scanned the room for Rick and found him sitting in a chair in the corner out of the way, his elbows on his knees and his face hidden in his hands. Glenn was sitting by him and was talking to him, but when he spotted Daryl, he shrugged at him and shook his head. Without a second thought, he hurried over and took the chair on the other side of Rick.

Rick didn't need to look to know who's thigh had brushed against his, who's thigh he had subconsciously—and maybe a little consciously—sought out. He appreciated that Daryl didn't say anything; he just sat there offering silent support as Rick tried and failed to reason away his guilt.

He could feel soot weighing heavy on his skin, dark and dreary as it seeped into every pour like the cancerous images of Bob's missing leg, the sight of Tyreese's dangling arm as they lifted him out of the basement, the burning grass with his name spelled out in gasoline, and the word carved on that kid's chest that all circled his mind like feeding frenzied sharks.

The smell of smoke that was woven tightly to every strand of his hair was a constant reminder of his job that he carried with him every second of every day, and now so would be the smell of his brothers' blood lodged in nostrils so deep that he just knew he'd never be able to smell anything else ever again.

Bob's voice screaming in his ear through the radio played on an endless loop against the low murmur of voices around him that had faded into white noise. Sasha's tears falling on his shoulder had burned right through his fireproof jacket and burrowed into his heart like hot coals, and the fear in Ty's eyes was tattooed on the inside of his eyelids.

It was on him. All of it. And no amount of hollow platitudes or pats on the back could change that. Not now.

A particularly loud wail from Sasha had his blood turning to ice, so fucking cold that it was hot, and suddenly he couldn't breathe. The room was too small, the air too thick; he had to get out of there, had to run. Glenn called after him as he bolted for the closest door, and others too, but he just needed to be anywhere but there.

He moved quickly through the sterile corridors searching for an exit, but the place was like a maze. Either that or his mind was so wrought with adrenaline and panic that he was too lost inside himself to find the "cheese". And he knew Daryl was behind him. He couldn't hear him—his footsteps lighter than the ghosts that haunted the hallways—but he felt him in his bones, or maybe those were just the apparitions too.

Finally, he made it to an exit, the hot Georgia air like a punch to the gut even this late in the evening. The sun was starting to set casting the sky in a furious yellow-orange. _Fitting...,_ he couldn't help but think.

He just kept walking after that, Daryl staying a good ten feet behind him, not interrupting or stepping in only to be pushed away by Rick's guilt and anger. The younger man was content to let him have his moment. And goddammit wasn't that frustrating as hell in its own way. To know Daryl knew exactly what he needed.

They approached a little alcove, a door set back into the building, and suddenly, he couldn't breathe. He started to pace along the length of the steps fisting his hands in his hair as he tired to remember just how the fuck his lungs were supposed to work, but it felt futile.

It was futile. He thought back to what Dr. Jenner had told him to do when he had an episode, but it felt like it had been so long since he'd had one that he'd forgotten. Something about knees and paper bags and counting backwards by threes.

But he was falling further down the rabbit hole with every passing second, his vision getting blurry, the artificial lights that were just starting to shine through the approaching night fading in and out of focus, Daryl's voice a soft murmur in his ear.

Daryl's voice?

_Daryl's voice...._

Like a hug, it was wrapped around him, holding him tight. It was something familiar, something tangible, and he clung to it like the lifeline he knew it to be, the rope he needed to use to free himself from the endless pit he'd stumbled into.

"It's alright, Rick. Everything's gonna be fine, I promise. Ya jus' gotta breathe for me, okay? Jus' breathe...in...and out...in...and out. Good, jus' like that. Jus' keep breathing with me, okay?"

Rick did what he said—deep breathe in, exhale, repeat—until the world started ebbing back in, that voice still holding him tight, and if he'd been a little more coherent, he might've realized that it wasn't the voice that was cocooning him but the biceps that he'd spent the last several weeks drooling over. Because Daryl was holding to him like he'd be the one to lose it if he loosened his grip even slightly.

Maybe he was supposed to be tethering Rick to his sanity, but that didn't mean he didn't need a little help staying on solid ground himself after the day they just had, after he'd been scared out of his mind when the bomb went off. They were both pretty numb to the outside world by that point, both in need of solace and a salve for their dejected hearts.

Time stood still, or maybe it just moved around them, as they stood there for a moment. Rick's arms were thrown over his shoulders and his were snaked around Rick's back, their bodies pressed together as closely as anatomically possible while they breathed in each other along with the muggy air.

When Rick's breathing pattern had finally evened out enough so that he could think about something other than the respiratory cycle, he pulled away but couldn't let go completely. He stumbled onto the steps right beside them and collapsed into a heap of weary bones.

Daryl settled next to him, close enough that Rick could feel the man's personal bubble melding into his, comforting and reassuring. They sat there in silence for awhile, sky finally fading into a deep midnight blue as he listened to the crickets start to sing while he calmed his worried mind...until it hit him.

They were touching.

But not just a light brush of their shoulders or the fabric of their jeans like the fleeting moments they'd had on a few occasions before. Nor was it the hot and heavy way in which they had come together in the woods. No, this was something new.

Their hands were touching. More specifically, their fingers were woven together more expertly than the finest Persian rug, hot rough palm rested flat against hot rough palm, his thumb strewn over Daryl's as they crisscrossed each other.

They were holding hands.

Daryl was holding his fucking hand, and he had no idea what to do about that.

He could've pulled his away, but the thought of doing so twisted something painfully in his gut. His soul was anchored to reality by that hand in his, and he knew it would just float the fuck away if he let go. So he just sat there, frozen in place, not daring to move an inch for fear it'd break whatever spell they were under.

Little by little, the tension in his body began to dissolve, muscles going slack as he realized how much he needed it, the tiniest bit of human connection, something to get him out of the negative headspace he had fallen into, something to _feel_ other than guilt, something to ground him.

Not just _someone,_ but Daryl, and not just _something,_ but the lustful giddiness creeping in.

He tried to remember feeling that way for Lori, the butterflies and the sweaty palms, but he couldn't. The memory far too old to recall with any clarity. Maybe that should've scared him, not having any real point of reference, but Daryl was holding his hand and all he could think about was the thrill slithering up his arm at the fact that maybe that moment in the woods was just the beginning and not the be-all-end-all.

Rick's thumb twitched and Daryl held his breath as he made a wish on a star he couldn't see that Rick wouldn't pull away. He must've gotten lucky. Who knew wishing on falling stars worked through light pollution? He exhaled as quietly as possible like he was hiding from an axe murder and couldn't risk being heard.

But it did give him the little burst of courage he needed to turn his head towards the man. Even in the low outdoor lighting he could see the bluish tint of Rick's eyes staring back at him, a blinding twinkle dead center reflecting in them from the lamppost across the street.

That was probably the moment he should've apologized for their fight in the woods, but at the same time, Rick really didn't need to be reminded of that fucking target on his back. Not in that moment; the one in which the air was clearly shifting around them, loud and unnerving and terrifyingly exciting all at once.

And he wanted it to, to move, to morph, to change into something like want. He wanted to be wanted by the man next to him because he liked sitting there on a concrete step while his ass fell asleep sweating like glass of ice tea in the Georgia heat holding his fucking hand while Rick fell apart before pulling himself back together.

That's why when his body starting moving, he didn't try to stop it. His eyes fell to Rick's lips when he licked them and he had to swallow hard to keep the moan contained to his throat. Then Rick's body was moving, towards his, and that's when the air went out, of his lungs, of the city, and maybe even the whole damn galaxy.

He held Rick's gaze for as long as he could before his eyes flitted shut on instinct, their heads tilted at just the right angle for what he knew would be the most perfect second kiss in the history of kisses. They were so close that he felt Rick suck in a breath, if that was possible, and he knew that in a matter of milliseconds those luscious lips would be on his again.

Except they wouldn't be.

"There you are!" Glenn's voice called from just out of sight of their faces, and Rick jumped up like Smokestack did every time Merle barged in. "We've been looking for you guys."

 _We weren't looking for you mothergoddamnfuckin' dickbag!_ Daryl managed to hold that back, but he was pretty sure it came through in the scowl he shot the Asian's way. "Well, ya found us," Daryl growled out instead.

"Bob's out of surgery. They, uh, they found some parts of his...leg," Glenn swallowed as he tried not to grimace at what he was actually saying, "...but they couldn't save it. He's going to need an artificial limb."

"Christ," Daryl said under his breath as he stood up.

"How's Sasha doin'?" Rick asked.

"She hasn't been back to see him yet. He's still in post-op...and Ty's still in surgery. They're trying to save his arm, but the last update wasn't too promising. The doctor said it might take a few surgeries to repair the damage, if it's possible," Glenn explained.

Rick ran his hands through his hair and Daryl wanted to go back in time two minutes to when that hand raking through curls was curled around his. Dammit! Why couldn't he have moved just a little bit faster, built up a little more courage just a few minutes sooner?

The trio set out towards the waiting room, Glenn and Rick side by side and Daryl a few steps behind. "The bomb squad said it was some sort of homemade pipe bomb set under the stairs," Glenn relayed.

Daryl didn't miss the way Rick's shoulders stiffened at the words. "A fuckin' bomb? Jesus H. Christ!" Daryl lamented.

"They said it was probably remote controlled so the guy had to've been close by when he set it off," Glenn continued. "It's not conclusive. That was just their unofficial assessment."

"Probably watched me go in and then...," Rick trailed off. _Shoulda been me._

He let out a sigh and the rest of the walk back to the waiting room was spent in silence. He rubbed at his eyes as they entered, the harsh fluorescent lights like daggers being jabbed right through his eyeballs. "I need some coffee," he said through a yawn.

"That's the probie's job," Daryl snickered as he patted Glenn on the back.

"Awe man," Glenn groaned as he stalked off towards the coffee dispenser the hospital had been kind enough to set up for them.

"Get used to it. It's gonna be a long fuckin' night."

"Where the hell have ya'll been?" Michonne whispered as she hurried up to them.

"He needed some air," Daryl said defensively.

"Where the hell have ya'll been?" Merle loudly asked from across the room. Everyone turned to look at them, and Rick wished he could disappear, all the emotions he'd spent the last hour trying to get rid of flooding back in. "Get yer ass in there an' get checked out," the Captain ordered.

Rick wasn't about to argue, if for nothing else than to escape all the sad eyes on him. _Long fucking night indeed._

***

After an hour as a patient himself, he was diagnosed with a mild concussion and some major contusions which was fancy doctor speak for bruises. His back was pretty tender and he knew he would've been sleeping on his side for while if he didn't sleep like that already.

Sitting in a chair had gotten more and more difficult the longer the night went on. That was because as the adrenaline and shock of the day wore off, the pain in his back from where he was slammed against the wall increased. Michonne had gotten him some ice packs to help with the minor swelling, but they didn't help much.

He had put off calling Carol until the doctor checked him over because he had no idea what to tell her. 'Hey sis, that arsonist guy tried to kill me today and blew up your boyfriend instead' didn't exactly seem like phone call material.

She was supposed to have Carl for the night and take him to school the next day, but she had insisted on coming to the hospital when he mentioned Ty was in surgery. Luckily, one of her neighbors was able to look in on the kids and promised to get them off to school the next morning.

Tyreese came out of surgery around two a.m. which was about the time that people started filtering home for the night. Rick was one of the handful of people who elected to stay. There was no way he would've been able to sleep if he had went home anyway, and he couldn't convince Carol to go home either. He wasn't about to leave her.

Other than Sasha, Rick was the second person Bob asked for after he woke up early that morning. He didn't want to face the man, but he knew he'd have to. When he got to the room, he made a point not to even so much as glance at his legs, but the first thing Bob asked was if he wanted to see.

"No...no, I...," Rick choked out. He had sat down in the chair Sasha had vacated when she went to sit with Tyreese for a while. She had given him a sad smile when she passed and squeezed his arm. It was better than the punch he thought he might've deserved.

"Ya shhhure man? 'S pretty fucked up," Bob slurred. "My leg...'s jus' gone. But, but it ain't on you brotha," he said, letting out a low laugh.

"No, Bob, this is...it's all my fault," Rick said, shaking his head and dragging a hand over his five o'clock shadow.

"NO!" he firmly said. "'S...is this pricks fault, he's jus' got his panties in a bunch, haha! You don't. Ain't gonna blame you. Maybe you cut 'im off in traffic or sumpin', who knows, who _knows_?"

"But you're never gonna walk—"

"Hey! Don't ya go on feeling sorry for me, okay? Sasha said they's gonna get me a bionic leg and I'll be helpin' Morgan kick yo ass at basketball," Bob chuckled, and Rick had to give him a small smile at that. "Like good times. Back when I had two legs," he said, continuing his cackling laughter.

"I'm jus' so sorry, brother," Rick sighed. He tried his best to ignore the fact that Bob was under the influence of some pretty significant painkillers. It wasn't exactly the most appropriate time to be having a heart to heart.

"Look Rick," he continued, his face now as serious as Rick has ever seen it, "Ya know any places'll sell jus' one shoe?"

"No, no I don't, Bob."

"Ahh shit...gotta throw half my shoes away. Ya need any left shoes?"

"Man, they must have ya on the good drugs," Rick chuckled nervously.

"That, they do...but seriously, Rick, I gotta get rid 'a my shoes."

"I'd be happy to help with that, Bob. No problem."

"Yer...y-yer a good friend, brotha. Don't ya be blaming yerself 'cause a' that pssssycho asshole exploded me up! Now get outta here an' get ya some sleep, you look like shit," Bob teased, settling back against his pillows.

"Alright, I'll do that, but I'll be back," Rick said as he carefully stood from the chair. He didn't want to grimace or show any sign of discomfort for his stupid bruises when the other man was laid up in a hospital bed without one of his limbs. "Let me know if ya'll need anything, okay?"

"Prolly gonna be here later. Can't walk on one leg...or can I?" he chuckled softly. 

Rick offered up the best fake smile that he could muster. "Take it easy, okay?"

"You too, man, yous toos," Bob sighed. Rick was almost out the door when Bob called to him. "HEY! Best tell those cafeteria ladies not ta bring me none a' that tainted meat!!" he squealed, dissolving into a fit of laughter. 

"I'll be sure ta let them know. Why don't ya try an' get some sleep?"

"Yeah, I'll do dat! 'Cause Rick?"

"Yeah, Bob?"

"We gotta find some place that sells one legged pants, too," he said softly, his eyes drooping shut.

Rick felt only marginally better after his talk with Bob, but the man was so high out of his mind that he doubted he'd remember anything they said. It was good to see him awake, though. Tyreese had wanted to speak to him too and said pretty much the same thing to him, minus the part about the shoes and tainted meat. Instead he was going on and on about getting a Terminator arm and opening up a daycare service: 'Terminator Ty's Tator Tots' or something. Both conversations helped to ease his mind a little bit, but it was still difficult knowing the reason they were hurting and drugged up was because of something he must've done.

It was hard not to feel responsible for what happened the previous day, and it was hard to leave the hospital knowing they would both still be there, but they were going to live and that was something worth celebrating. Carol finally convinced him that he needed a shower and a change of clothes, so he reluctantly agreed to let her drive him home later that morning.

With his mind a little more at peace after some good coffee and a hot shower, his thoughts kept drifting back to how perfect Daryl's lips looked in the hazy dusk of night—shimmering after he licked them, an invitation for Rick's own to slide up against his—and he had to wonder if he'd ever get that chance again.


	23. Candyass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang meet Ty and Bob's replacements; Ty has surgery; an interesting development occurs. Could I be anymore vague? Probably.

Things at the firehouse were a little tense on the next couple of shifts. Rick had spent most his free time at the hospital in the days following the bombing. Merle had offered him another day off if he needed it, but he declined, determined to stand by the rest of his brothers and sisters. 

He wouldn't've been able to live with himself if something happened to anyone else when he wasn't there to help or prevent it. That may've been a double-edged sword because they were probably safer without him around.

Daryl had spent most of his time at the hospital as well. They didn't talk much other than to exchange updates and coffee orders, and they certainly didn't breach the topic of their almost-kiss that he still wanted to strangle Glenn for interrupting, but now he felt like maybe they were both on the same page for once. The divide between them felt smaller than it had before, and he was starting to entertain the idea that maybe Daryl wanted him too.

Eye contact was still exchanged with fleeting glances usually after one had been caught staring at the other. But did Daryl seriously have to make those sucking slurping noises when he ate _everything single thing?_ And why was he so opposed to sleeves?

"Who's that?" Rick whispered to Shane when the group gathered for their morning meeting. He nodded to two guys standing by Merle looking slightly nervous but smiling friendly.

"Bob an' Ty's replacements prolly," he whispered back.

"Well, boys an' girls, we got a fucktonne a' shit ta discuss so le's settle down now," Merle instructed. When everyone's murmuring ceased, he continued on, "First off, had ta bring in a few new faces ta help out while Bob and Tyreese are out. This is Aaron and Eric Raleigh," he said motioning behind him.

"Ya'll brothers?" Shane snickered, and Rick elbowed him in the side causing him to release an 'oomph' of discomfort. "What? Jus' teasin' is all. We already got us a lesbian, so we're cool 'round here."

"We're married actually," Aaron replied with a shy but wide smile. Him and Eric weren't sure how people in a new house would take to them, but they had been looking for a place to transfer to so they could be on the same shift.

"We were one of the first couples to get married in Georgia after the recent SCOTUS ruling," Eric added proudly.

"Congrats, man! Looks like that means we got us two gay couples now, right boys?" Shane quipped, slapping Rick on the back and throwing a wink at Daryl.

Both, careful not to make eye contact, replied with a "Fuck you, Shane," as everyone let out a low laugh. 

"We done talkin' romance?" Merle interjected. "Good. Aaron'll be on Engine, Eric on Ambo. Darlina, try ta resist givin' 'em one a' yer warm welcomes. Wouldn't want yer girlfriend gettin' jealous seein' as how yer still in the dog house," he chuckled.

"Fuck you, Merle," Daryl spat back, but he couldn't exactly argue with that.

"Sorry, baby brother, I meant 'boyfriend.' We don't want us gettin' any intolerance complaints." 

"You'll have to excuse my _soon-to-be-EX-boyfriend._ He's an idiot," Michonne said to the newbies, rolling her eyes at Merle.

"Alright now, movin' along....I got the latest reports from both the Arson unit an' the APD bomb squad. Unfortunately, Arson didn't have anythin' new 'cept an update of the profile to include the little present he left us and the lack of fire. Bastard's a slippery sonuvabitch. If we're lucky this was jus' a one time thing as opposed to a change in MO considerin' Randall. 

"The APD confirmed that it was in fact a homemade bomb that was detonated via remote control. They said it prolly had a range of a couple hundred feet, so...he was there....watchin'...Rick, can ya see if ya can get ahold a' more pictures from yer photog friend?"

"Sure, Cap. I'll ask 'im next time I see 'im," Rick replied. The thought of asking Pete for more pictures unnerved him a little. It had bugged him that the man had disappeared after he came back out of the house the first time. Pete must've gotten called away for work or something like that. 

If he was their man, wouldn't he've wanted to watch his handiwork? Or did he get spooked and hide somewhere to detonate the bomb? It probably wasn't Pete. Rick hadn't done anything that would've set him off that he knew of. Unless the man had gotten the wrong idea about him and Jesse.

"Preliminary toxicology reports on the family showed they were chloroformed," the Captain continued.

"Not ketamine? Way ta be original," Shane joked.

"Point bein', _Walsh,_ the family's gonna be jus' fine."

"That's good ta hear," he replied with all seriousness.

"Bob and Tyreese are doin' well," Merle added. "Bob's set ta be released maybe tomorra'. Ty has another surgery day after tomorra'. 'M sure ya'll'll all be there. As ya'll know, they are both in good spirits and we'll keep 'em in our thoughts.

"One last thing. We'll be movin' into July soon. Got the Fourth comin' up which means drunken idiots an' fireworks. Calls are gonna pick up. We'll stick with our scheduled shifts, but consider yerselve on call from here on out just in case we need ya."

After that, they moved onto their usual meeting routine of announcements and other information about the house. Everything else about the rest of the shift was boringly mundane, and they were all thankful for that, a small traffic accident and a older gentleman who fell down the stairs, but nothing too serious.

Everyone did their best to make Aaron and Eric feel comfortable as they settled in. They were both nice guys and easy to get along with. Rick had a million different questions he wanted to ask them but kept his mouth shut so he didn't come off as the weird possibly gay guy who had no idea how to be gay.

He just wondered how gaydar actually worked. Could they tell just by looking at him that he wanted Daryl's hands on him again? And maybe his mouth among other things? That led to thoughts about whether or not _Daryl_ could tell he wanted those things. He couldn't read minds, but the look in the younger man's eyes when they had their almost-kiss seemed to be pretty damn clear that he wanted it too.

And he couldn't help but remember how desperately Daryl had clung to him when he was falling apart, how the man seemed to know just what he needed in that moment. That should've confused him because where the fuck does Daryl Dixon get off being his port in a storm? But it didn't. It made perfect sense, but was that just his brain being stupid?

It probably wasn't appropriate to spill his guts to complete strangers asking for advice on his lack-of-love life just because they were gay. So, he decided to befriend them first. After supper, he sought them out.

"How's everyone treatin' ya?" Rick asked, taking a seat at the table next to Aaron. The couple were both filling out some paperwork for HQ.

"Just fine. Everyone's been real friendly," Eric smile at him from across the table.

"The probie and I started in January and everyone embraced us immediately...well, maybe not Daryl. He's a hard one ta crack," he chuckled.

"So...are you two...." Aaron trailed off, not wanting to come off as too pushy on their first day.

"Uh...me and Daryl?" Rick swallowed, the room temperature appearing to skyrocket under the two men's inquisitive gazes. "We're...," _Jus' friends? Lovers? Soon-to-be lovers? Idiots?_ "Our rela—" _What the hell am I supposed ta call it?_ "It's...complicated?" he settled on. "We, uh, I mean we've tried ta be friends, but it jus'...I don't even know," he shrugged in defeat. 

His cheeks had heated up, and he just knew that if these two guys where smart, they had probably already deduced that he had feelings for Daryl thanks to his idiotic ramblings. Why didn't he just go with, "We're jus' friends?" Probably because it was a flat out lie. They weren't friends. He didn't know what they were, but he knew friends wasn't it.

"Did he give you that ring?" Eric asked as he motioned to Rick's hand.

"My wedding ring? No, no, this, my wife, she...I'm a widower," he sighed. _And there's your complicated._

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know or I wouldn't've said anything," Eric apologized, big brown puppy dog eyes filled with sympathy and understanding.

"Yeah, it'll be two years next month. She was killed by a drunk driver along with our unborn daughter...so it's jus' me and my son Carl now," Rick sighed, but he had to wonder when that had gotten easier to say out loud. Or was it just easy to open up to them?

"We're sorry to hear that," Aaron said.

"I should let ya'll get back to your paperwork," he said as he stood. "If anybody gives ya any trouble, jus' let me know," Rick nodded to them.

"Sure thing, Rick," Eric nodded back.

_Well, that wasn't embarrassing. Way to make a good first impression on your new gay coworkers, Grimes. Jus' mumble like a damn fool. See how far ya get if ya blow it with your gay Yodas. Then who's gonna show ya the way of the gay Force? Idiot!_

*****

The next day, Rick insisted on being the one to take Bob home from the hospital. Sasha wanted to stay with Tyreese, so he enthusiastically volunteered. Bob was on some pretty strong pain killers which caused him to sleep most of the day, when he wasn't talking about his left shoes. 

Rick made the two of them lunch then they settled on the couch to watch some bad daytime television. He watched; Bob slept. They couldn't get the wheelchair down the basement stairs so they were limited to the main floor. Rick was going to make sure they put in a ramp as soon as possible even if he had to build it himself.

After giving Bob his afternoon meds, he received a text from Carl. 

_[Carl]: He's pretty cool, dad._

Rick was pretty confused.

[Rick]: Who? 

_[Carl]: Daryl, duh. Just picked me and Soph up from Enid's._

"What the fuck?" came an almost shout of surprise. Thankfully, Bob's pills had already taken effect and knocked him out good. 

_[Carl]: Did u kno he used 2 live next door to Soph n aunt Care?_

[Rick]: Yes. U didn't say anything 2 him did u?

_[Carl]: Y? Did u want me 2 pass him a note for u, dad? Rotfl_

_[Carl]: No._

[Rick]: Brat :p Thought Care was picking u up?

_[Carl]: Went home to shower n rest. We're bringing u n Bob chicken._

Oh god! He was about to have dinner with his son, niece, and notboyfriend and he'd had absolutely no fucking warning at all!

_[Carl]: Try 2 b cool ;p_

Just what he needed, dating advice from his son. He practically ran to the bathroom to wash his face and run a comb through his hair. Then, he changed into one of the clean t-shirts Carol had dropped off for him. Once he was done primping himself, he had a compulsion to tidy up the living room. That was probably him burning off nervous energy because it wasn't even his house.

Twenty minutes later, the was a knock on the door. Rick was pretty terrified that Carl and Daryl wouldn't like each other. They'd only met a few times and two of those were after their fights. Technically, _during_ one in which he had to pull his son away from Daryl.

He opened the door to the three of them laughing, which he took as a good sign. "What's so funny?" he asked leading them inside. 

"Oh, we were just talking about how you'd go berserk if Daryl gave me a ride on his bike," Carl answered.

"What makes ya'll say that? I'd let ya, if ya wore a helmet," Rick replied.

"Really?" Carl asked excitedly. All three looked at him, mouths slightly agape, like they were waiting for the punchline. 

"Shh, Bob's asleep," Rick whispered as the tiptoed through the living room to the kitchen. "Yeah I'd let ya go for a spin. I trust Daryl," he continued once they were in the other room. 

"Awesome! So you'll really take me, Daryl?"

"Sure kid. Jus' gotta get another helmet, then I'll take ya out for a spin," Daryl said.

The teens took a seat around the table while Rick got the plates and utensils and Daryl grabbed them some drinks from the fridge. "Y'know, I used ta have one before you came along. Then mom made me sell it, so thanks for ruinin' that for me, kiddo," Rick teased.

Carl rolled his eyes in a silent reply.

"Think mom would let me ride, too?" Sophia asked.

"I don't know," Rick said thoughtfully. "'M pretty sure she trusts Daryl too," he said, looking over at the other adult. 

"Ya'll really trust me?" Daryl asked, brown furrowed just a little as he tried to discern whether or not Rick was lying.

"I trust ya with my life every third day, of course I'd trust ya with Carl or Sophia's as well," he replied.

Daryl nibbled at the cuticle of his thumb while he let that sink in. He knew that Rick trusted him on some level, but he was pretty sure anything involving the kid was higher up there on the scale than he thought. He wanted that trust, but more than that, he wanted the kid to like him.

"Should we wake Bob?" asked Daryl, changing the subject as him and Rick took their seats, conveniently next to each other, and probably planned if the smug smirk on Carl's face was anything to go by.

"He just took his pills, should be out for a few hours. I'll jus' heat some up when he's hungry," Rick said.

"Probably needs his sleep anyway...poor guy."

"To Bob and Ty," Sophia said raising her can of rootbeer.

"To Bob and Ty," the boys replied in unison.

The rest of the meal was spent with the kids talking about their day with Enid. The three got along really well, and Rick made a mental note to meet her parents soon, which turned into foster parents when Carl mentioned hers had both died in a car accident.

Rick got a text after dinner from Glenn letting him know that him and Maggie would be over shortly to relieve him for the night. In the meantime, the quartet headed into the game room to shoot some pool. Sophia had never played, but they all took turns giving her pointers. The kids got bored after Daryl won two games in a row and they moved onto darts. 

The whole evening had been a little awkward for Daryl. He had never dated anyone with kids before. Not that him and Rick were or would be, but he figured the sentiment was the same. He tried to keep the focus on the teens and tried to ask them a lot of questions, mostly so he wouldn't have to talk to Rick.

Sophia made things a little easier because the two of them had always gotten along very well. He never would have guessed that he could've related so well to a teenage girl, but he considered Sophia to be a friend. She was a good kid, and so was Carl. He spent a lot of time asking about his bike, and Daryl was glad they had something to talk about.

Talking to them was relatively easy. However, things with Rick were still a little strained, and he wasn't sure how to fix that. It was like he'd forgotten how to talk to him, or even argue, and he didn't know if he was supposed to try and be nicer to him or just continue to be his dickhead self.

He wanted Rick to like him, but they were in the middle of a fight when Rick kissed him the first time, so maybe he should just be himself. That's who he was and if Rick still kissed his foul mouth once then maybe he'd be willing to do it again. God, he hoped he'd be willing to do it again.

*****

It was the day of Tyreese's surgery and both Woodbury and Prison shift had hunkered down in the surgical waiting room of the hospital. Daryl spent most of his time glaring at Phillip who was glaring at Rick. He didn't know what that guy's problem was, but Daryl was getting tired of his bullshit.

Ty had been in surgery for an hour when one of the doctors came out with an update. They all huddled around, but Rick didn't like the solemn expression on the man's face. "There was just too much damage to the limb," Dr. Edwards started. "I'm sorry to tell you that the arm is going to have to come off. We've tried our best but the nerves and muscles are unsalvageable. 

"We could leave it attached, but it would hang limp and may turn into more of a liability. We've discussed this complication with the patient and his family prior to the surgery. We knew this was a possibility, but we just have no other option than to remove the damaged tissue," the surgeon informed them.

Rick felt Carol deflate next to him. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close as she cried on his chest. "He's gonna be alright. We jus' gotta remember that. He's strong, he'll adapt, and he's got us ta help out," he whispered into her silvery hair.

She nodded stiffly and attempted to stop her sniffling. "You're right," she said pulling back. "We'll get 'im through it."

Rick caught sight of Sasha sitting down as she clung tightly to Maggie, the rise and fall of her shoulders an obvious indication of her current emotional state. Rick desperately wanted to offer her comfort, but he just couldn't will himself to go to her. He thought that he failed her, failed them, failed everyone.

So as soon as Carol was settled back in for the rest of the grueling wait, he hightailed it out of there. He'd moved on from guilt to anger by this point. Most of that was directed at himself, but the arsonist had a huge chunk dedicated to himself too. 

Rick eventually found his way into a stairwell on an outside wall. He could see the blue sky through the slightly tinted windows and feel the rays of the sun heating his skin, such a stark contrast to the cool, somber waiting room. A few seconds after he busted through the door, Daryl did the same. The sound of the heavy door closing for a second time echoed both up and down the hollow concrete column.

"I'm fine," Rick practically growled. His tone wasn't directed at Daryl, though, not technically.

"The hell ya are!" Daryl argued, taking in Rick's seething form. 

He had his back to him, but Daryl could still see that his shoulders were tense and stiff and he had one hand on his hip, the other mostly likely pinching the bridge of his nose if Daryl knew him. He had been afraid Rick was going to have another panic attack, but he was probably more likely to punch him at that point.

Rick had on a tight pair of dark stained denim jeans and a dark brown shirt—sleeves rolled up to his elbows—that had come untucked in some places. Daryl wanted to slip his fingers under the hem, his digits twitching almost compulsively to do so, but he was somehow able to resist. 

"Ya don't call me Darlin' anymore," Daryl said softly, his head cast down to hide his face so he wouldn't give away the fact that it did kind of bother him. It was a good thing too because Rick spun around lightening fast at his words, Daryl's eyes now staring at the same boots Rick had had on that day in the woods.

"Didn't know ya wanted me too," Rick replied, just as soft, his residual anger almost instantaneously evaporating away. Honestly, he hadn't known if it was still appropriate for him to call Daryl 'darling'. Before, it was done mostly in jest, but now it felt more like a pet name, so much more significant.

"Don't care," Daryl lied, shrugging his shoulders as he feigned indifference. 

"Ya still call me Asshole," Rick pointed out.

"Didn't know ya wanted me ta stop," Daryl smirked, briefly looking up bashfully through his lashes.

"I don't," Rick said, "....Darlin'."

Daryl scoffed and raised his head. "Asshole," he fake scowled.

"Jackass," Rick said in that dangerously low register that had gotten them into trouble in the woods. And when had he gotten so close?

"Smartass," Daryl countered, leaning forward the slightest bit until it felt like he'd been caught in the other man's gravitational pull. He'd gladly punch anyone who tried to free him from it this time.

"Dumbass," Rick said, mirroring his movement until their bodies were all but touching.

"Candyass."

Rick smiled darkly, angling his head to the side, "You wanna taste?" 

"Fuck yeah," Daryl breathed just before he smashed his lips into Rick's, his fingers like heatseeking missiles precisely aimed at that tantalizing hemline. It was a direct hit too, Rick's body shivering against the pads of his fingers on contact, little tiny explosions of nerve endings under his skin.

Rick's hands were on his shoulders then fisted in his hair. Then hotfuckingdamn! One was on his ass and that's when the moaning started, an almost silent hum in the back of his throat as his lips moved rhythmically against Rick's. He gave Rick's bottom lip a good suck followed by a nip and chuckled low when he felt it flex into a smile between his teeth.

He didn't know how long they stood there kissing, could've been seconds, could've been years, but the kiss gradually went from fast and heated to slow and sensual. And really, that was just as good, no longer desperate but reaffirming because fuck yes, Rick Grimes _wanted_ to kiss him, and if he wanted to kiss him, maybe he'd want to do other things like fuck and...date?

"Can ya sing?" Daryl asked between kisses.

"No," Rick amusingly answered. 

"Me neither," he replied, reluctantly pulling back, chest heaving as he did so. "We're goin' ta karaoke on Thursday."

Rick blinked at him but didn't make a move to break free from the loose grip they had on each other. "Ya askin' me out on a date, Darlin'?" Rick grinned, eyes playful yet serious.

"Ain't a date," Daryl said rolling his eyes. "The bar has karaoke on Thursday and ya need to blow off some steam before ya crack again and I ain't around ta save yer _candyass._ 'Sides, how's it a date if Merle and the rest a' the gang are gonna be there?"

"You're right. That would be a terrible first date," Rick sarcastically said, the smirk clear on his kiss-swollen lips.

"You should probably wear somethin' nice anyway," Daryl 'suggested' as he pulled away and made for the door, careful not to look back because he just knew Rick was smiling at him which would've had him melting back into his orbit. But he couldn't have that because he just knew their self-appointed, one-manned search party known as Glenn Rhee had probably already set out to find them. 

And sure he enough, he ran right smack dab into him when he opened the door.


	24. Bad Cherry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang does karaoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was heavily inspired by this [pic.](http://leatherneck-one.tumblr.com/image/113624205858) It's twice as long as my usual chapters for this fic, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. I struggled with it, but hopefully it's hot and sexy and funny and not stupid.
> 
> Also, a special thank you to [lilvixen25](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lilvixen25) for beta'ing and helping me pick some of the songs. But most importantly for putting up with me yapping about this chapter and that picture for weeks now.
> 
> I made a [playlist.](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL69dSdUXf1wBA2mZ2KAHwhAUO3f5bmyLi)

Rick wasn't exactly sure what Daryl meant by 'wear something nice.' He hadn't been on a first date since he was probably twelve, and he wasn't sure getting a kiss by the lockers at a roller rink with your parents right around the corner counted. Then again, going to karaoke with everyone from work probably didn't count either.

After coordinating with Glenn and Shane, who both seemed to be going in button downs, he decided on a navy one as well. But just in case he was overdressed, he slipped on the only musical oriented shirt that he had underneath: a light grey Rolling Stones tee with the red lips fading out around the edges.

Carl had started teasing him as soon as he realized that Rick was wearing cologne for the first time in years. "What's that smell?" he ask, holding his nose as they walked out of their apartment.

"I believe that's deodorant. I'll be sure to introduce you," Rick dryly replied.

"I was talking about your cologne. Seriously, dad, did you shower in it?"

"Did I use too much?" Rick frowned. It was bad enough it took him an hour just to pick out a shirt.

"No, it's fine, but if you needed help getting ready for your _date,_ you could've asked," Carl scoffed.

"It ain't a date, Carl," Rick tried to convince him, but the looks the teen gave him as they settled in the jeep said he wasn't buying it.

Carl let out a long sigh, "Dad, a lot of things have changed since you started dating...in the Stone Age...you know about 'protection' right?"

 _Oh god no!_ Was his kid seriously trying to have 'the talk' with him? Well, Rick was in no way ready for that, so he turned up the radio and punched the gas, probably breaking the speed limit all the way to Carol's. The last thing he needed was his son giving him sex advice.

"Maybe you should do some vocal exercises," Carl mockingly suggested as he stepped out of the car in front of Carol's building. Sometimes his dad was just too easy of a mark.

"Hey, I ain't that bad," Rick insisted. He wasn't that good either. Maybe Daryl would be too drunk to care.

"Just trying to help out. Wouldn't want you to run Daryl off. He's kinda cool, dad."

Rick couldn't help but blush, "Get outta here, ya brat!" The teen smugly smiled, his laughing echoing in Rick's ears long after he shut the door.

After dropping Carl off, he headed for the firehouse where they had all decided to meet up and carpool. He managed to catch a ride with Aaron, Eric, and Tara whose knowing looks he failed to notice as they all piled in Eric's blue Honda. He was too busy looking for Daryl who was nowhere to be found.

Merle eventually sent everyone on ahead as him and Michonne waited for his uncharacteristically late brother.

Daryl had spent ten minutes pacing in his bedroom unable to will his feet to move closer to the front door. It wasn't until he'd looked himself over in the mirror one final time that he realized that he'd kindasorta asked Rick out, that this was probably a date, even though he said it wasn't, and that Rick had actually agreed.

And he may've been freaking out about it.

His phone chimed with a text message five minutes after they were supposed to meet at the firehouse. It was Michonne asking where he was, but it took him a minute to get his fingers to stop shaking long enough to respond. Why was he so nervous? It was _not_ a real date! Merle was going to be there for fuck's sake.

[Daryl]: Don't think I can go.

_[Michonne]: What? Why not?_

[Daryl]: Rick

_[Michonne]: What'd u do now?_

[Daryl]: Shit, Michy, I think this is a date! What the fuck do I do?!

_[Michonne]: First, get ur ass over here so we can leave. Second, buy him a drink and kiss him. ;p_

_[Michonne]: He looks good too :D_

[Daryl]: U r no help at all!

[Daryl]: How good?

_[Michonne]: Well, he got in the car with Aaron and Eric. And they both looked like they wanted to eat him up._

"That oughta get your ass moving, Dixon," Michonne chuckled to herself.

It did. Daryl flew out of his apartment like a streak of lightening after that. He had been jealous of all the nurses eyeing Rick at the hospital, but he didn't expect he'd have to beat all the gay guys in town off of him too. Before he got on his bike, he sent a text and told her and Merle to go ahead and he'd meet them there.

At the bar, Rick and the others had claimed several round tables right up front near the small stage that they pushed close together. Several of them had already filled out their sign-up sheets and had started on their first round of drinks. Rick ordered a beer, determined not to go beyond tipsy.

He tried to hide his disappointment when Michonne and Merle walked in without Daryl. Maybe the younger Dixon had chickened out? Everything had been fine on shift the previous day. Well...not everything. The awkwardness was still lingering around, but he had hoped that would subside soon.

"Where's Daryl?" Glenn asked when Merle and Michonne made their way over.

"On his way," Michonne said, her eyes covertly drifting over to see how Rick took the news. He was doing a terrible job at holding back a smile. Merle pulled out her chair for her and the table erupted in teasing hoots and catcalls.

"Ah shuddup," Merle scoffed. "Jus' takin' care of my lady." He leaned over and kissed Michonne's cheek after he took his seat which garnered more cheers.

"So who isn't coming?" Aaron asked. He was seated next to Rick with Eric on his left. Michonne was sitting across from Rick with an empty chair on his right for Daryl in between the two of them at the end.

"Just Morgan 'cause he's staying with Ty, Sasha's with Bob," Michonne replied.

"Ya'll met Abe and his gang 'a misfits down there?" Merle asked Aaron and Eric, nodding towards the other side of their tables.

"Oh yes, I actually went to school with Rosita," Eric replied.

"Small world," Michonne said.

The group engaged in small talk while they waited for the MC to start calling people up. They had a big group, but luckily it was mostly just them in the bar that night which meant everyone would have a chance to sing if they wanted to.

Daryl walked in right as Eugene took the stage and began to belt out _Pepper_ by the Butthole Surfers:

 _Marky got with Sharon, Sharon got Sherice_  
_She was sharin' Sharon's outlook on the topic of disease_  
_Mikey had a facial scar, and Bobby was a racist_  
_They were all in love with dyin', they were doin' it in Texas._

Rick supposed his timing could've been better. Eugene's monotone rendition of a monotone song about dying by a band with the word 'butthole' in their name wasn't exactly the most romantic song to make an entrance with. But he was still sexy as sin as he strutted over in slow motion with his sleeveless cutoff black shirt, leather vest, and dark jeans fitted to him like a second skin, blue eyes burning into Rick's.

Then again, if they _were_ gay now, maybe Butthole Surfers wasn't totally inappropriate....

"Hey Daryl!" Glenn shouted from across the tables causing Daryl to break eye contact. It was just as well, Rick needed a drink to wet his dry throat before it closed up completely after checking him out. A round of greetings followed while the man settled into his seat next to Rick where they accidentally-on-purpose bumped knees under the table.

"Hey Asshole," Daryl grumbled, leaning over towards Rick so he could hear him above Eugene.

"Thought you weren't gonna make it," Rick replied. He wasn't going to admit how fucking disappointed he would've been if he hadn't.

"Jus' slept through my alarm," Daryl lied. Rick didn't need to know he had a minor freak out before hand.

"Oh...thought ya might've had a hot date or somethin''," Rick quipped.

"Hate ta disappoint ya, but you're stuck with me for the evenin'."

"Don'cha mean you _love_ to disappoint me?"

Daryl let out a low laugh at that. "Yeah, somethin' like that."

 _I don't mind the sun sometimes, the images it shows_  
_I can taste you on my lips and smell you in my clothes_  
_Cinnamon and sugary and softly spoken lies_  
_You never know just how you look through other people's eyes_

Why couldn't Daryl have entered on those lyrics?

Eugene finished his song and rush off stage to a round of applause. Rick was genuinely surprised that he sang at all, let alone found a song that actually worked for him. Abraham was called up next and started serenading Rosita with _Black Magic Woman_ by Santana. He sounded pretty good too which made Rick start to feel a little nervous.

He hadn't sang in public literally ever. Carl would make fun of him for singing in the car, but he thought he sounded pretty good in the shower. He was tempted to find a way to get Daryl all wound up so he wouldn't notice how bad he actually was.

Daryl ordered himself a beer and started filling out his song choice. Rick tried to peek to see what song he choose, but Daryl covered the paper with his hand and scowled at him. Rick couldn't say he minded. He liked surprises and he certainly liked that smoldering scowl.

By the time Maggie went up to sing _Tim McGraw_ by Taylor Swift, a plan was forming in Rick's head. He called it 'Operation: make Daryl come in his pants'...it was a working title.

 _You said the way my blue eyes shined,_  
_Put those Georgia stars to shame that night  
I said: "That's a lie"_

Maggie's angelic voice wafted in the air as Rick headed for the bar. "What kinda drinks come with cherries?" he asked the bartender when she walked over to take his order.

"All the fruity ones or an old fashion, a whiskey sour, Shirley Temple," the woman replied.

Merle and Shane would not let him live down a Shirley Temple or anything fruity. "Whiskey sour it is. And could ya add some extra cherries?" he asked.

"Sure thing," she smiled knowingly.

"With stems," he clarified. The bartender nodded and got started mixing his drink.

Daryl tried not to be too obvious with the fact he was staring at Rick at the bar. The man's beer still looked pretty full judging by the condensation, but maybe he wanted something stronger. Or maybe he just wanted to flirt with the bartender. After all, Daryl had been the one who said it wasn't a date.

It was a terrible one anyway. They could hardly hear each other over the music, but they couldn't exactly talk with everyone's nosey ass ears all around. And most importantly, he couldn't kiss and rut up against him without drawing some unwanted attention. He really hoped Rick didn't think it was a date.

Someone they didn't know got up next and sang what might've been a Lady Gaga song, but he wasn't sure because they were slurring the words pretty badly. He didn't really care either, his mind too focused on Rick who had walked over to the MC. He must've been changing his song because the MC handed his paper back and he scribbled on it.

After changing his song, Rick settled back into his seat, careful not to give away the mile wide grin he was holding in. The bartender had only given him three cherries. Next time he was just going to ask for a bowl of them. He took one out and casually sucked the small red fruit into his mouth—secretly hoping Daryl was paying attention—as he curiously watched Merle walk up to the stage.

Daryl was wasn't just watching, he was completely captivated, swallowing thickly as the cherry passed between those perfect lips. He wondered if Rick could tie the stem into a knot with his tongue. He could. Maybe he would snag one and show him how it was done since there were several in his tumbler.

That's when he got an idea.

If Rick was going to be sticking things in his mouth all night, he'd order something that he could eat with his fingers. It wasn't lost on him that Rick liked to watch him eat. Or maybe he just liked watching him put things in his mouth. Either way, he made sure to make a show of it any chance he got, licking his digits after every bite to wind him up.

Just as he was about to flag down the waitress, Merle spoke into the mic, "I wanna dedicate this song ta me beautiful girlfriend, Michonne. My Nubian Queen, this is for _you,_ sugarlips!" he smiled wide as he pointed at her.

 _I like big butts an' I can not lie_  
_You other brothers can't deny_  
_That when a girl walks in with a itty bitty waist_  
_And a round thang in yo face ya get sprung_

Everyone busted out laughing as Michonne's face morphed into a scary combination of embarrassment and rage. But worse than the song was the Captain's dance moves. It may've been what toppled Sodom and Gomorra, the real reason for the fall of the Byzantine Empire, and the reason China built that huge ass wall was to keep themselves safe from _that._

Merle somehow managed to meld really bad break dancing moves with those of a headless chicken performing its death dance, arms and legs flailing about like he was caught in some sort of vortex of incoordination. When the monstrosity was over, Merle received a standing ovation, but mostly because everyone was thankful he was done.

"Ya'll want ol' Merle ta do an encore, I see!" he cackled into the mic. Thankfully, the MC snatched it from his hands and hip checked him off stage before he could follow through with anymore torturous 'singing.'

He got the cold shoulder from Michonne when he got back to his seat, but he eventually had her laughing it off. Not without a few promises of what Rick didn't want to know, but at least it made him feel better about his own turn. Nobody could be as bad as that train wreck.

Next up was Shane and Andrea singing a duet to Sonny and Cher's _I Got You, Babe._ It was quite nice but Daryl was starting to get impatient waiting for his fries as Rick started in on his second cherry.

Rick shot him a heated look—to make sure he was watching this time—and fished out a cherry stem. Then, he tilted his head slightly and held the red orb in front of lips before sensually sucking it into his mouth. He pulled out the stem and gave a satisfying hum as he chewed it slowly, savoring the flavors on his tongue.

The temperature of the bar went from warm to molten core of the Earth in no time flat as Daryl watched his Adam's apple bob when he swallowed. Rick only had one more cherry in his glass but Daryl knew he would soon be desperate to find him something else to suck on when it was gone.

Rick was momentarily pulled into a conversation with the other end of the table about the upcoming holiday after that. And Michonne took the opportunity to taunt Daryl by singing _Kiss the Girl_ from the _Little Mermaid_ in his ear. He wasn't impressed.

His fries arrived soon after and he readied himself for his counterattack against Rick for being a teasing bastard. When everyone was deeply enthralled with Tara singing Katy Perry's _I Kissed a Girl,_ he picked up the first fry after having 'accidentally' bumped Rick's thigh to making sure he was paying attention.

He swirled the tip of the fry in ketchup and ever so slowly raised it to his puckered lips. Even slower still, he pushed the potato piece into his mouth then pulled it back out, nibbling off the tip when he finished. He redipped the fry and repeated the motion as he fucking falaciated the shit out of that stick of spud while Tara belted out:

 _I kissed a girl and I liked it,_  
_The taste of her cherry chapstick._  
_I kissed a girl just to try it,_  
_I hope my boyfriend don't mind it._

Rick was going to have to step up his game because watching Daryl had him pitching a damn circus tent in his jeans and Operation Cherry Oh Baby, as it was now known, was getting hazardously close to _misfiring._

He was thankful Glenn was in need of his help and called him over to the stage because he was desperate for a distraction. "Rick! Please don't let them make me sing this!" Glenn begged holding up a forged piece of paper. Shane and Merle were flanking him as he stood there near panic.

"He's got to, Rick. It's a rite a' passage," Shane said.

"Damn straight. Won't be so bad, Probie, jus' pretend we're all in our underwear," Merle howled. "Hell, ya already know what I look like in mah birthday suit," he said, continuing to laugh like a tone deaf hyena.

"I'm not drunk enough," Glenn said.

Rick took the paper from him and read the song selection before trying and failing to hold in a snicker. "Sorry, Probie, but I'd actually like ta see this," Rick grinned.

"Oh come on you guys! Don't make me...it's a duet, anyway. It won't sound right," he explained.

That's when Rick felt Shane and Merle's mischievous gazes turn to him. "Oh no!" he protested.

"You are one of the new guys," Shane smirked.

"Nu uh, not anymore. That's Aaron and Eric," Rick pointed out. Besides, he was trying to make a good impression on Daryl, not drive him away!

"I'll do it if you sing it with me, Rick," Glenn finally agreed. All three men turned their attention to him, staring him down with beady little eyes as the current song wound down.

"Ugh, fine! But you're singin' the lead. I'm jus' gonna stand in the back," he insisted. "And you owe me so much, you have no idea!"

The MC announced them and the duo hopped up on stage. Glenn grumbled into the mic about his boss making them sing the song as the music started up. As soon as the first notes played, the crowd went wild.

 _{R} Hi Barbie_  
_{G} Hi Ken!_  
_{R} Do you wanna go for a ride?_  
_{G} Sure Ken!_  
_{R} Jump in..._

And by 'jump in,' Rick meant a lake because he wanted to drown. Thank god he couldn't really see anyone because of the stage lights, otherwise things would've been a lot worse. Regardless, he swore he could see Daryl's eyes glowing with delight even through the darkness. Or maybe he could just feel them scolding his skin.

 _{G} I'm a Barbie girl, in the Barbie world_  
_Life in plastic, it's fantastic!_  
_You can brush my hair, undress me everywhere_  
_Imagination, life is your creation_  
_{R} Come on Barbie, let's go party!_

The first verse was done rather monotone, but after a while, Rick and Glenn both started to get into it. The cheering crowd helped, as did Merle and Shane's 'coaching' from the sidelines complete with threats of picking out another song if they didn't make this one count.

When they got to the chorus, the crowd joined in which was nice. Rick would sing the "Come on Barbie, let's go party!" and everybody would counter with the "Ah-ah-ah-yeah."

 _{G} Oh, I'm having so much fun!_  
_{R} Well Barbie, we're just getting started  
{G} Oh, I love you Ken!_

The song finally ended but not without a final round of heckling from Shane and Merle who both received a nice "Fuck you!" before Rick and Glenn walked off stage to the loudest round of applause of the night.

"Well, that wasn't so bad," Rick said to Glenn, patting him on the back as they headed to their tables. There was another round of hoots and hollers as they found their chairs. Both held their heads high. Just another thing to get those jackals back for.

"What was that?" Daryl whispered to Rick, leaning over until their bodies touched from boots to shoulders.

"Your brother bein' an ass. Thought you'd recognize it by now," Rick smirked, leaning into him as well.

"Nah, meant that little dance where ya wiggled yer hips," he drawled. And was that a shiver he felt running down Rick's arm? "Thought I was gonna have ta go find some dollar bills."

"Fuck you," Rick chuckled, nudging him playfully. "Ya couldn't afford me," he purred dangerously low in Daryl's ear.

That was probably true, but Daryl sure as shit wouldn't've minded a lap dance. Hell, he'd even bust out some fives if the man was really good. Or they could just bypass that and get right down to grinding and rutting against each other as Rick straddling his hips, kissing him hard, fingers bruising the soft flesh of his—

"...Ain't that right, baby brother?" Merle's voice asked, cutting through the haze of his steamy thoughts like a hot knife through butter. Or more like nails on a chalk board.

 _Asshat!_ "What?!" he grumbled.

"Abe was sayin' how he was sure ta be Mr. July for next year's calendar. Told 'em they prefer guys with actual muscles fer that," Merle chuckled.

Daryl smirked. "There's a reason they picked these guns two years in a row over yours, Abraham," he bragged, casually flexing his biceps. The two went back and forth exchanging witty barbs, Shane eventually joining in on the fun, until Eric took the stage.

Rick had been saving his last cherry for a special song, or at least a sensual one. When the music to Christina Aguilera's _Genie in a bottle_ started, he knew it was the right time. He didn't know the words, but that was okay the beat was all he needed.

 _You're lickin' your lips_  
_And blowing kisses my way_  
_But that don't mean I'm gonna give it away_  
_Baby, baby, baby_

Rick shot a quick look around the table before reaching in his glass. Everyone was caught up in Eric's performance, and he swore Aaron had little bubble hearts floating around his head as he watched his husband's serenade. Eric was a natural up there. The man had an amazing voice, and damn if he didn't move like a sexy hypnotic cat, agile and graceful, as he swayed his hips seductively.

Satisfied that all eyes were on stage except Daryl's—whose were transfixed on his lips—Rick held up the dangling bright red fruit he'd dug out of his glass and slowly stuck his tongue out to capture the drop of whiskey that was threatening to fall from the bottom. Chancing a glance at Daryl, he was ecstatic that his eyes were now on the cherry.

He brought the sweet fruit to his lips and applied the gentlest of suction until the cherry passed between them. After sucking the whole thing into his mouth, he stuck the pads of his finger and thumb into his mouth and sucked off the whiskey residue.

_I'm a genie in a bottle baby  
Gotta rub me the right way honey_

Daryl's dark eyes were flitting back and forth between his lips and eyes, and he couldn't help but smile smugly to himself. He quickly chewed and swallowed the cherry then started working on the stem. He had saved the longest one for last and used his tongue to tie the stiff stock into a knot, pulling it out of his mouth and holding it up proudly when he was done.

Eric finished his song and left the stage after a warm applause. Daryl didn't get a chance to counter his move because Rick was called up next. Thanks to his success with the cherries, he felt really good about changing his song. He unbuttoned his shirt as he walked to the stage showing off his Rolling Stones' t-shirt underneath.

The song he was singing was just covered by the Stones, but it was one of his favorites. He took a deep breath as the music started and tried to envision Daryl in his underwear to combat his nerves, but that was the worst thing he could've done because it just made him want to see him naked, which set his blood to boil.

 _Oh cherry, oh cherry, oh baby_  
_Don'cha know I in need of thee_  
_You don't believe it true_  
_Why don't you love me, too_

Rick didn't have to say it, but Daryl knew that song was for him. The bastard was trying to seduce him and it was absolutely working, especially that little hip wiggle Rick kept doing that had him wanting to jump up on stage and grind all over him. Why the hell had he not suggested a club, with dancing, and touching? What an idiot!

 _I'm never gonna let you down_  
_Never make you wear no frown_  
_You say you love me madly_  
_Then why do you treat me badly_

Yeah, that song was definitely for him. This was totally a date and now Daryl had to figure out how to get a goodnight kiss at the end of it. At this point, he didn't think he'd be able to stop himself with just a kiss, though. Maybe Rick wouldn't be able to either.

Rick wrapped up his song and hurried off stage, his cheeks burning bright. How he'd gotten through it without passing out, he wasn't sure, but another whiskey sour was waiting for him at the table. Except this time, the glass was mostly just filled with cherries.

Daryl gave him a half hidden smirk from behind his beer bottle before he took a pull. Rick smiled to himself as he got to work on tying more stems into knots. Someone not in their party got up and sang a song Rick didn't know, but his attention was mostly honed in on Daryl anyway.

Daryl, not willing to be out done, had picked up another fry. Two could play at their orally suggestive game. He forwent the ketchup and plunged the potato all the way into his mouth. Rick's breath hitched when he pulled it back out slowly and ran his tongue over the length of it in the most seductive way possible, which had Rick in dire need of a frigid shower.

He tore his eyes away just long enough to notice that most of the couples were getting more and more cozy. After Eric's song, him and Aaron were getting pretty handsy beside him. Merle and Michonne kept whispering in each other's ears and Maggie was practically in Glenn's lap. He was surprised no one had been dragged to the bathroom yet.

When his eyes made it back to Daryl, he was reaching for another fry. He slowly started licking it up and down while Rick watched, helpless to look away, caught like a deer in the headlights as he blindly fumbled for another cherry.

Both were too distracted to notice that Michonne and Tara had settled their sights on them, their own evil plan forming in their heads. Michonne jumped up and dragged Tara over to the MC, wallet in hand prepared to bribe him if she had to.

By that time, Rick had gone through two more cherries as him and Daryl tried to drive the other as crazy as possible. They looked up briefly when they heard Michonne saying their names as she dedicated the next song to them, but it wasn't until the lyrics started and everyone began to laugh that they realized something was up.

 _I'm just a bachelor_  
_I'm looking for a partner_  
_Someone who knows how to ride_  
_Without even falling off_

Rick's brain was understandably a little slow on the uptake considering all his blood was flowing south of the border, but when the words sunk in, he started choking on his cherry. Daryl's brain wasn't far behind, himself choking as a small piece of fried potato went down his windpipe.

"Shit," Rick coughed as everyone in the bar turned to look at them, their friends snickering and heckling away at both the song choice and their inability to properly chew when giving head to food. Then, the chorus started and Rick wanted to sink under the table...but that would've looked even worse.

"Wha's a matter with the two 'a ya'll?" Merle teased. "Don't like the song my girl picked out for ya?"

"You two alright?" Aaron asked as he slapped Rick on the back.

"Yeah," Rick managed to say, his eyes watering from his violent coughing fit. Daryl wasn't doing much better, but they were still breathing, which was a good sign.

 _If you're horny, let's do it_  
_Ride it, my pony_  
_My saddle's waiting_  
_Come and jump on it_

Daryl was sure he was going to murder both women as soon as they got off stage, but he couldn't deny that he did in fact want Rick to 'ride it.' And the fact that Rick hadn't pulled his thigh away from his just made him want it more, made him think that Rick might want it too.

That was the moment he looked over to see Aaron whispering in Rick's ear—a hand on his back—and jealously began to balloon in his chest. Aaron smiled as he pulled back, and then he and Eric stood up and headed for the door, hands sliding down each other's backs and disappearing into pockets as Daryl wistfully watched on. He wondered if Rick would ever want to feel him up as they left a bar on the way home to fuck like bunnies. Because it was obvious that was what was going down there.

"Where they goin'?" Daryl asked, leaning into Rick again, happy for any excuse to get closer to him, breathing in the scent of alcohol, musk, and the faint smell of smoke clinging to his hair.

"Home...'M gonna need ta find a _ride_ back to the house," answered Rick, a sideways smirk soothing the venomous sting of jealousy bubbling under Daryl's skin.

He could've kissed Rick then, just a few inches more and he would've been able to taste the cherry juice on his lips, the whiskey on his tongue, and if he was lucky, the heavenly moan that he'd pull from his lungs. Goddamn, that was a sexy song!

But then it was over and the girls jumped off the stage after a round of applause. The MC called his name and he took a deep breath as he stood. If Rick could sing him a sexy song, the least he could do was return the favor. He knew how to seduce too. Maybe. Hopefully.

_When you came in the air went out  
And every shadow filled up with doubt_

It was a pretty accurate song. That was exactly what happened when he met Rick. Now the doubt was lifting and the man was sitting out there in the darkness, eyes glued to him and hanging onto every word he sang...he hoped.

 _I don't know who you think you are_  
_But before the night is through  
I wanna do bad things with you_

Rick couldn't believe that was the song Daryl chose, but fuck if it didn't make him want to drag him into the bathroom and do some very bad things with him, too. Hell, he'd be willing to show everyone just how gay Daryl made him on the damn stage with the way his dick was starting to ache as it strained against his zipper.

 _I'm the kind to sit up in his room_  
_Heart sick an' eyes filled up with blue_  
_I don't know what you've done to me_  
_But I know this much is true_  
_I wanna do bad things with you_

He knew Daryl couldn't see him, but it felt like he was looking right at him, singing every word for him. Because he was, Rick just knew it. Daryl liked him and wanted to do bad things with him. Shit! That meant he was going to have to figure out how to do all _the gay sex._

How hard could it really be to suck a cock? Did Daryl know how to do all that stuff already? It couldn't be that hard to figure out. Well, he'd just have to ask the google overlord. Aaron and Eric might be willing to give him some pointers. He had seemed to hit it off with them.

But then it was over and Rick was making a mental note to buy the song on iTunes as soon as he got home. He was gonna wear that shit out like he wanted to wear Daryl out. He'd be humming it for a week, thinking about Daryl's toned body swaying on stage as he did so. He. Was. So. Fucked.

Daryl couldn't make eye contact with Rick as he sat back down, but he did notice Michonne's knowing eyes on him. He glared at her for a moment before joining in the brief conversation about the new guys. The consensus was that everyone liked the couple. He was only mildly annoyed when Rick stated that the loudest.

After everyone had had their turn singing, the group started to thin. Shane and Andrea left next with Glenn and Maggie. Tara grabbed a ride back with Abraham, Rosita, and Eugene. Everyone else stayed till last call then slowly filtered back to the cars they came in.

Except for Rick.

With Operation: Cherry Oh Baby a success, it was now time to move onto Operation: Get a ride on Daryl's motorcycle (and/or find a way to get a goodnight kiss)...it was a working title.


	25. Drinkin' Dark Whiskey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Daryl finish their date.

Rick had been hoping to catch a ride back to the firehouse on Daryl's motorcycle all night, but he didn't want to seem too eager or obvious about it. He'd gotten so caught up in all the teasing and foreplay that he didn't have time to come up with a strategy to make it happen. He'd just have to play it cool and hope for the best.

"Think Merle would mind me ridin' back with them?" he asked Daryl, doing his best to come off as indifferent as possible. He popped the last cherry into his mouth as he stood from his chair and buttoned his over shirt. For some reason the bar had heated up after Daryl sang and he'd opted to shed it.

"I don't know, he's kinda particular 'bout who rides in his truck. It's his baby," Daryl said, lying his ass off and sounding just as indifferent before taking one last pull to finish off his beer.

"Bet T would gimme a ride," Rick said.

"I think his car was full. Didn't he bring half a' Red shift?"

"Yeah, but I could always ride on someone's lap," he chuckled. 

_The only lap ya better be ridin' on is mine!_ Daryl may or may not've thought, a possessive growl lodged in the back of his throat. He pulled out his phone when the group started filtering outside and shot off a text to Michonne while Rick was distracted by one of the guys.

[Daryl]: I will give u a hundred $ if u make sure Merle doesn't let Rick ride back with u

Daryl saw her read the text and flash him a sly grin when she realized he rode his bike. He had parked right next to Merle's truck and the four began to amble their way in that direction, the Captain staggering a bit as Michonne offered guidance.

"Hey Rick, didn't your ride leave without you?" she asked over her shoulder, eyes brimming with a mischievous curiosity.

"Yep. Can't say I blame 'em after Eric's performance," Rick nodded to her as him and Daryl trailed behind the couple, the back of their hands brushing with every step. "Guess I'll be walkin' back," he sighed.

"Did ya wanna ride with us?" a drunk Merle offered.

 _No!_ Rick and Daryl both thought.

"I don't know, _sugarlips,_ " Michonne mocked, mirroring one of Merle's earlier monikers, her arm twined around his, "Figured he'd wanna ride back with his _date,_ " she winked to Rick, the edges of her lips curving upward.

Rick was pretty sure he both paled and blushed at the same time—if that were possible—at her emphasis on the last word. Of course she knew about the two of them! She was a crafty one and Daryl's best friend. If he didn't tell her, she must have figured it out herself. But bless her because that put Merle on the war path to get him on the back of Daryl's bike.

"'M sure Darlina won't mind ya ridin' bitch," Merle said with a deep laugh, miraculously able to open the driver's side door for Michonne.

"Hell no! I ain't ridin' bitch," Rick quite convincingly fake protested because he was absolutely okay with that if it meant getting the chance to get his hands on Daryl again.

"Yeah, Merle. He's an Asshole not a bitch," Daryl teased.

"Shuddup," Rick said, elbowing him in the ribs. "Hey T-Dog, ya'll got room?" he hollered across the parking lot.

"Nah, sorry man...and I kinda wanna see that," he yelled back.

"Ya'll are all dicks! Y'know that?" Rick grumbled.

"We know...jus' be careful where ya put yers," Merle cackled so loud Rick thought he felt the Earth tremble beneath his feet. The older man climbed in his truck and shut the door, his laugh muffled by the glass before he rolled his window down.

"Fuck you, Merle! It's just a damn ride," Daryl quite convincingly fake snarled because he was absolutely okay with that if it meant getting the chance to have Rick's hands on him again. 

"Sure ya can get 'em back to the house?" Merle asked, his laughing finally subsiding as his expression turned serious. 

" 'S a five minute drive," he shrugged.

"Jus' drive careful, baby brother. I know it'll be _hard_ not ta get too excite with yer man's hands all over ya," he howled, his laughter now back in full force. "We's goin' home an' I'ma give her her own private show!" 

"Better her than us," Daryl said rolling his eyes as Merle started rolling up the window.

He had no idea how Merle would react to the fact that he was 'dating' another man. Sure Merle was joking now, but he was denser than lead sometimes. Daryl was sure he wouldn't've been laughing so hard if he knew how close to the truth he was.

The Captain was fine with Tara and he hadn't shown any dislike towards Aaron and Eric, but that didn't mean he'd approve of his previously straight baby brother deciding out of the blue that he liked dick...or more to the point, that he wanted Rick's.

But that was a thought for another time because he slung his leg over his bike and fired it up, the engine roaring to life as Rick slipped on behind him. Merle wasn't laughing anymore but was instead looking over at Michonne who had a rather stern look on her face. She must've been shooting down his private show idea.

Rick was sitting back on the seat, his hands resting loosely on Daryl's shoulders, as they backed out of the parking spot. Daryl wasn't too surprised about that considering Merle was once again staring at them, as were everyone in T-Dog's clown car. They thought it was a joke, but it's exactly what Daryl had been hoping for all night.

"Might wanna hold on a little tighter than that," Daryl huffed back over his shoulder. Before Rick could respond, he hit the throttle and sped out of the parking lot leaving everyone else behind.

Rick slid his hips forward on the seat and dropped his hands down to Daryl's hips. "This better?" he asked in Daryl's ear, yelling just enough to compensate for the noise from the wind.

"Maybe ya are a bitch," Daryl hollered back. 

Rick chuckled in his ear and moved his hands around to his stomach, snaking them into his leather vest as he rested his chin on Daryl's shoulder. Daryl smiled to himself and leaned into him. He'd never had a guy hold him like that, especially not on his bike, but it felt kind of right and not awkward like he might've expected.

They pulled into the parking lot of the firehouse soon after. Daryl parked his bike next to Rick's jeep, and they both climbed off, neither wanting the night to be over with. It was one thing to sit next to each other all night in a crowded bar eye fucking, but Daryl had kind of hoped for a little one on one time.

"Headin' home?" Daryl asked.

"Yeah, probably gonna go inside and take a piss," Rick replied and instantly regretted it because that wasn't sexy at all. They stared at each other for a minute after that, Rick wasn't sure if he should kiss him or wait for Daryl to make a move. Dating was fucking hard! 

Just then, T-Dog pulled in and rescued him from conundrum. Everyone was ribbing them a little as they piled out of his car and went their separate ways; some inside, some to their own cars. Rick and Daryl followed the crowd into the house to use the restroom, but in actuality Daryl was trying to stall. He didn't want to say goodnight to Rick yet. 

It was a little after midnight so everyone was quiet as to not wake up the Woodbury shift. The lights were low and Daryl slumped against a wall in the hallway near Merle's office as he waited for Rick. He had been trying to figure out a way to get some more time out of the evening, but he was afraid the night would be over as soon as they went back outside.

He was jingling his keys in his pocket when he remembered the spare he had to Merle's office. He also remembered something about a bottle of whiskey in a drawer somewhere. 

Maybe their night had just begun.

He gave a quick look around before unlocking the door to the office then leaning against it to wait. He was a hunter, he was good at waiting for prey. A few minutes later, said prey came strutting down the hallway with a few stragglers. 

"Need help with somethin', Darlin'?" Rick smirked, stopping in front of him.

"Night guys," T-Dog and the others said as they headed out for the night.

"See ya'll later," Rick waved to the small group.

"Ya'll behave now," someone catcalled, soft laughter echoing out into the night.

Daryl rolled his eyes, but as soon as the outside door shut, he fisted his hand in Rick's shirt and twisted the doorknob behind him with the other. They went falling into the dark room, and before he even had a chance to shut the door, Rick's lips found his, a hand curling around his neck, the other moving to the small of his back. 

"As a matter-a-fact, I do got somethin' _big_ I might need help with," he rasped. Rick snorted as Daryl pulled him over to the desk, fingers in his pockets, then fumbled blindly for the lamp. He flipped it on to find Rick smirking at him in the low light, his body pining him against the heavy oak.

"This the part where we make out like teenagers hopin' daddy don't come downstairs an' catch us? 'Cause I'd be okay with that," Rick quirked a brow.

"Nah, we gotta break into the liquor cabinet first," he replied, pushing Rick away so he could go for the bottle of whiskey.

Rick took the opportunity to take off his over shirt, because the room was stifling, or maybe that was just Daryl, then threw it on the desk as he followed him around to the other side. "Merle gonna be okay with this?"

"Who cares...if we make a mess we can jus' blame it on Phillip," Daryl chuckled as he flopped down in Merle's chair.

"What's that guy's problem?"

"Don't know, don't care...Wanna play a game?" he smirked, holding up the bottle.

"What kinda game? 'Cause...I don't think I'm quite up for 'hidin' the..." _Oh, god! Don't say it!_ "...salami'," Rick cringed. _You're so lame!_

"Way ta fuckin' ruin the moment, Asshole," Daryl scowled as he kicked his boots off, Rick doing the same.

"Well...this is a date, right?" Rick asked, leaning back against the desk right in front of Daryl. He certainly thought it was.

"I guess," Daryl shrugged. He unscrewed the lid and took a swig of whiskey before handing the bottle to Rick. He watched him take a drink, wanting to taste his hypnotic Adam's apple as it bobbed around with each swallow.

"And it's goin' well, right?" Rick continued, handing the bottle back to Daryl.

"I've had worse," he shrugged again. 

"So...I was thinkin' we'd probably have another one, and if that went well, another...then, maybe stuff...thangs...."

Daryl sighed but wheeled the chair forward just a tad. "Christ, I can't believe I'm datin' such an articulate asshole," he droned, shaking his head.

"Fuck you! I'm a catch!" Rick insisted, his sharp tone offset by his grin.

"Didn't ya jus' say we weren't ready for all that?" Daryl chuckled.

"So, what? We jus' jack each other off again? 'Cause that was...it was pretty fuckin' good," Rick said, dipping his head to hide his shy smile.

"Was pretty good," Daryl agreed, failing to hold back his own small smile at the memory of Rick's hands all over him, his lips and tongue, his whole body plastered to him as they got each other off. 

"What game did ya wanna play? Spin the bottle?" Rick teased.

"Nah, pretty sure I'm gonna be kissin' ya later, no matter how drunk or sober ya are."

"Ya don't have to get me drunk for that. Kinda been wantin' to kiss ya all night," Rick purred, bending down to grab the bottle. He took another swig and handed it back.

Daryl's eyes bore into him in challenge, "What'cha waitin' for?" 

"Thought ya wanted to play a game first?"

"Jus' didn't want ya to leave yet," he admitted, looking away as he raised his thumb to bite at his cuticle. He pulled it away once he realized he was doing it, not wanting to come off as nervous even though he was. "Not into games."

"Not interested in leavin', but, uh..." Rick cleared his throat, "...how we supposed to do this?"

"How'd we do it last time?"

"Lots a' yellin'," Rick chuckled. 

Daryl joined in as he lifted the whiskey to his lips and took another drink. After another pass between them, Daryl screwed the cap back on and sat the bottle behind Rick. Of course, his real motive was to get his hands on him.

"C'mere," Daryl drawled, biting his bottom lip as seductively as he could without feeling like a complete idiot about it. He slipped his index fingers in Rick's belt loops and gave a gentle tug.

"Plan to," Rick quipped.

"Meant git yer ass over here and straddle me," Daryl ordered.

"Why don't you get your ass over here and straddle me?" came Rick's defiant reply.

" 'Cause I said it first," he smugly said.

"So it's like 'shotgun'? Whoever calls it first wins?" Rick asked.

"Nah, it's like the only thing I've been able ta think about since Michonne and Tara sang that damn song was you straddlin' me," Daryl explained. "And I think we'll both win."

Rick ran a hand down his face. He couldn't exactly say he'd mind, but he'd always been the 'straddlee' not the 'straddler.' Daryl gave another tug and he let himself be pulled onto his lap. The chair was just wide enough so that his knees were able to frame narrow hips, but it wasn't too comfortable.

There was a strong hand on each of his thighs as Daryl ran them slowly up and down the denim of his jeans. Rick wasn't exactly sure what he was supposed to do next, but he slowly lowered himself down until most of his weight was resting on Daryl's legs, hands on his shoulders. 

"Well, this is new," Rick said.

"Tell me about it," Daryl replied, his eyes scanning Rick's face for any signs that he'd want to back out, and maybe just so he could memorize the way he looked because damn, he was sexy like that. " 'M pretty sure I'm straight, but I got a guy on my lap who better hurry up an' kiss me already, so what the fuck do I know?"

"Not sure we can say we're straight after this," Rick said, his own blue eyes fluttering over Daryl's face. He licked his lips and watched Daryl do the same. It would be a lie for him to deny that he needed that encouragement, but that's all it took for him to lean down and press his lips against Daryl's. 

It was short, almost experimental even though they'd kissed before, but it felt different somehow. The other times they kissed, it was in the heat of the moment, and that was just fine, fantastic even, but they planned it this time, an intentional acknowledgement that they were moving things some place new.

They both wanted it, they'd both agreed to it, and there was no more doubt to be had. Daryl wanted to kiss him and he wanted to kiss Daryl, and he wanted to do bad things with him, wanted to make him come again, wanted Daryl to make him come again.

He gave a half smirk and went in for another kiss, a hand threading in Daryl's hair so he could deepen it, to pull him closer into him. Daryl opened his mouth and allowed him to dive right in, soft whiskey-stained lips sliding against his as a nimble tongue met him halfway. 

Daryl kneaded Rick's thighs but started to move his hands up them, inch by sensual inch. They stilled on his hips, and in a moment of bravery, he ground his own upward into Rick, relishing the little puff of air he breathed out against his lips when their hardening dicks were met with a little friction.

"You're a good kisser," Rick panted when Daryl began to kiss down his neck. 

"So are you," Daryl replied, smiling on his skin. He moved his hands around to Rick's ass and gave a good squeeze. Rick rocked forward the slightest bit in response, and they both let out a little moan at the amazing sensations that it sent coursing through them. "Good god, do that again!" 

Rick grinned to himself and rolled his hips forward, his cock coming to life in his jeans. Not that either of them needed much help by that point. He pulled Daryl's head back and kissed him hard, sucking Daryl's bottom lip into his mouth where he sunk his teeth into the sensitive flesh.

Daryl gasped into his mouth and moved his hands up under Rick's shirt, fingers gliding over heated skin to his shoulder blades before dragging blunt nails down his back. He grabbed the hem of Rick's t-shirt and stripped it off, tossing it over to the side.

"Yer pretty hot," Daryl muttered.

"I know, but your arms are fuckin' amazin'!" Rick praised, hands traveling over his biceps to give them a firm squeeze. 

Daryl hid his blush in the crook of Rick's neck as he kissed his way down to his collarbone. He gave a light scrap of his teeth along the protrusion, sucking a mark to the skin above it before peppering his chest with fluttering kisses. 

Rick leaned back just a little, almost in offering, and Daryl took advantage, closing his mouth around his nipple as he applied the gentlest of suction. Rick hissed when teeth clamped down on the tiny nub followed by a swirling tongue meant to soothe the bite. 

Daryl thought he'd gone too far with that when Rick removed his hand from his hair, but just as he was about to apologize, Rick surged forward to laid siege to his lips, now palming the bulge Daryl was sporting in his jeans.

He shrugged out of his vest as Rick unfastened his belt for him then started pulling the leather strap out of the buckle of his own with expert fingers. Daryl was surprised with how steady Rick's hands were because his were a little shaky. He hadn't been thinking last time, instinct took over, but he didn't want to mess it up this time.

"Sorry," Rick said as he moved to stand. 

"W-what's wrong?" Daryl asked, maybe a little panicked that he'd fucked something up. Was Rick changing his mind? 

"This chair fuckin' sucks," he answered, reaching down to take Daryl's hands. He pulled him up and to him as he settled back against the desk. 

Daryl let out a relieved laugh and whipped off his shirt. He pressed himself against Rick, scorching skin electrified on contact, and kissed him again, still tasting whiskey and cherries and lust on his tongue. He hooked his hands behind Rick's knees and lifted him up to sit him on the desk. 

"Ya missin' boobs?" Daryl asked for some stupid reason.

"Surprisingly, no. I'm more of an ass man, though," Rick smirked, running his hands down and around Daryl's sides to plunge into his back pockets. He squeezed and pulled him as close as possible then took his turn lavishing the other man's neck with licks and kisses and a nibble or two.

Daryl let out a husky laugh and ground his hips forward in reply, "Yeah, me too." 

They took up another round of heated kissing until Rick was finally brave enough to trace the hem of Daryl's jeans around to the button and zipper. Daryl followed suit as they unfasten them. Then Rick was the one following Daryl's lead when he reached into his boxers and curled his hand around his cock, pulling him free as he began to run his hand along his shaft.

Before Rick knew what happened, Daryl was rubbing something cold and wet on his erection. "What the fuck is that?" he screeched.

"Shhh! Christ! 'S just lotion, found it in the desk, but le's not think about it too much," Daryl murmured against his lips.

Rick couldn't help but laugh as it all sunk in. He had a man's hard dick in his hand coated in lotion found in his brother's desk after drinking his whiskey. He didn't want to think of what Merle and Michonne had done in the room, but what he was about to do to his boss' brother on his own desk was liable to get him killed...or maybe just fired.

"Wha's so funny?" Daryl huffed.

"Merle's desk!" was all he could spit out as his laughs turned into fucking whiskey-induced giggles. 

"Jesus, Rick, shuddup! Yer gonna wake the house," Daryl chided, voice a harsh whisper.

"You shuddup, it's fuckin' funny!"

"No, you shuddup," Daryl replied, descending into Rick's giggling fit like a snowball picking up speed down a mountain. "Goddammit, Asshole! Would ya stop? 'M tryin' ta concentrate here," he insisted after he was able to compose himself. 

" 'M sorry, geez...fuck yeah, that feels good," Rick breathed, finally forgetting about Merle when Daryl gave a few slow pulls on his length to accentuate his point. 

They traded giggles for pants as they lost themselves in the rhythmic motion of strong hands over hard cocks. Rick knew he wasn't going to last long once they got started. The whole evening had been nothing but foreplay, and the buzz he had going on didn't help either. 

"Goddamn, Rick, how the hell do ya even know how... _fuck_...ta do this?"

"How do ya know how ta do... _that?_ " Rick gasped. "Fuck, Daryl! God, don't stop! Don't fuckin' stop!" 

No way in hell was Daryl going to stop! Not when Rick was begging him to keep going, keening moans blaring in his ear. Rick's legs were wrapped around him like a vice and a hand was inside his underwear, fingers digging into his bare ass.

He sped up the pace, giving a few last strokes along Rick's shaft before a final flick of the wrist sent him unloading in between them. He pulled back just enough to see Rick's face. The man looked so fucking wrecked that it set him off too, white streams speckling their stomachs as he pressed his forehead to Rick's with a staccatoed moan. 

They shared a few desperate kisses as they struggled for breath before Daryl reached for the tissues to clean them up. "Ya gonna run away again?" Daryl couldn't help but ask.

"No," Rick shook his head. "Jus' didn't know what else to do."

"Coulda kept kissin' me," he huffed.

"Wanted to."

"So did I," Daryl shrugged, reaching for his shirt to slip it back on. "Ain't ready to go home yet."

"Let's go upstairs and play Mario Cart. Lose a race, take a shot," Rick suggested, pulling on his Rolling Stones shirt after Daryl was kind enough to throw it at him. 

"Dibs on Mario!" Daryl said, bolting for the door and grabbing the whiskey on the way by.

"I prefer Toad anyway," Rick huffed.

"Ya 'cause you are a toad."

"Ya? Well, you're the one kissin' a toad, Darlin'. So jokes on you!"

"Gotta kiss a lot to find a prince...or somethin'...."

"That's frogs, Daryl," Rick quietly admonished as they tiptoed up the stairs.

"What's the difference?" Daryl whispered back.

"I don't know, but we can ask Eugene in the morning."

"That guy's weird."

"Yeah, but he's a nice weird," Rick insisted.

"Yeah...so's that ass a' yers I'm about ta kick!"

"Bring it!" They put the television on mute so they wouldn't wake anyone and started up the game console as they settled in close together on the sofa. "Hey, Daryl?" 

"Yeah?"

"It's a good first date," he smiled over to him.

Daryl leaned over and kissed him, slower this time, sweet and lingering in all the right ways, his hand cupping a jaw sharp enough to cut glass. They were both smiling when the parted, Rick's lips puffy and perfect and glistening in the low light from the screen. It was better than good. "Yeah it is, but I'm still gonna kick yer ass."

After playing several rounds and drinking most of Merle's whiskey, they were too drunk to remember who was winning. They both were when they exchanged racing for making out on the couch. And they'd both be losing when they woke up the next morning with hangovers as wide as the Georgia sky.


	26. Boots on the Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well lookie here! An update!
> 
> I must apologize in advance for the mildly (or quite) disturbing _thing_ in this chapter. I shall provide you all with some lovely Rickyl eye bleach to cleanse your soul within the next chapter or two. :D

Merle was not having a good morning. He was hungover even though he had told himself not to drink so much the night before, but they all had a tough few weeks. Then his truck wouldn't start so Michonne ended up having to give him a ride to work because Daryl didn't answer his phone. And when he got to his office, he realized someone had broken in and stolen his new bottle of whiskey.

He knew it was Daryl, the only one stupid—or brave—enough to do so, and also he had left his boots behind as evidence, boots Merle had tripped over that caused him to bang his knee on the desk. Naturally, this put him on a warpath that would be aimed at the next person who pissed him off. Fortunately, or unfortunately, the only one who would possibly be getting pissed on was himself when he got upstairs.

There was a crowd gathered around the couch and, not wanting to disturb whatever shit was going down, he tiptoed over to the semicircle to peer between a few heads.

"I'm sending these to Shane," he heard Martinez say. "He's gonna lose his shit."

Everyone was snickering quietly as Merle started to press forward into the crowd, the mix of the Woodbury and the oncoming Red shifts parting when they realized it was the Captain shoving them out of the way.

That was when he came close to pissing himself because stretched out on the couch was a zonked out Rick Grimes, an arm and a leg dangling from the side, mouth agape as a deep snore tumbled out of him. His bottle of whiskey was just about gone and was turned on its side where it must've fallen out of Rick's hand in the night.

But the part that had him losing his shit was his baby brother laying smack dab on top of him, cheek plastered to the middle of Rick's chest and a drool spot darkening the red lips of the Rolling Stone's logo.

Now, Ol' Merle wasn't stupid. He had a feeling the pair of them were closer than they led on, and maybe even closer than they knew themselves to be, but that was the moment, in his hangover-induced nebulous, when he realized that maybe there was more to their relationship than he originally thought.

"What the hell do ya think yer doin'?" he thundered. His bellowing voice caused both men to shoot up board straight and everyone else in the vicinity to melt into a fit of giggles.

Rick's head was pounding when he roused, the room off kilter, and the sharp laughter piercing his eardrums like an arrow through his skull. Maybe he could get Daryl to shoot him with one because after looking between him and the crowd, Rick was left mortified. They'd just been caught sleeping...together....

Daryl had jumped off of him and vanished into the blur of faces by the time Rick's world slowed its pitch and roll. He was left hungover in the middle of a packed room with all eyes on him. "Sorry, Merle. I'll buy you a new bottle," Rick said in an attempt to placate his seething boss. Shit, he really hoped Merle didn't suspect anything.

He had wanted to keep everything with Daryl under wraps for...well, ever maybe. Or at least until he knew what the hell it actually was, or they broke up. Whichever came first.

"Make it two bottles," Merle grumbled before storming off.

Rick hurried towards the bathroom after that, avoiding everyone's shit-eating grins and the teasing catcalls of "Hey lover boy," and "Ya'll lovebirds now?" At least they were laughing it off like it was a joke. Except for Phillip; he only glowered at him when he passed by. If he had said anything, Rick might've punched him in the face.

While Rick was hiding out in one of the bathroom stalls hoping the whole thing would blow over enough so that he could make it to his jeep without being heckled the whole way, Daryl was down in Merle's office pulling on his boots.

"Mind tellin' me what the hell ya'll were thinkin' stealin' my whiskey, Darlina?" Merle asked as he walked in the room, slamming the door a little too hard for either of their liking.

"Needed somethin' to play drunkin' Mario Cart with," he said, shrugging him off. "Chill out, I'll buy ya a new bottle."

"Make it two," Merle said. Why not push his luck and get four out of them? "Ya win, at least?"

"Hell if I know," Daryl chuckled then immediately regretted it when it kicked off a tidal wave of throbbing pain between his ears. He was pretty sure it had been a draw.

"Yeah, well ya bes' not pull that shit again. I don't need a bunch a' drunk assholes stumblin' around in the way when calls come in, understood?"

"Yeah, got it." Maybe next time they would go to Rick's place.

He grabbed his leather vest, Rick's shirt and boots, and hightailed it out of there. He didn't want to give Merle the chance to sober up enough to ask any incriminating questions he wasn't even sure he knew the answers to.

Merle wouldn't've, though. He wasn't nearly drunk enough to want to know the answers. Plus, they had been embarrassed enough for one day, and he knew Shane would do something crazy with the pictures Martinez was sure to send him.

***

Rick had ventured out of the stall to the sink where he splashed some cold water on his face. He'd been in there five minutes or so, but he knew there was no use hiding. After a quick pep talk, he knew he might as well get on with his life and take the teasing with a grain of salt.

His phone chimed as he was leaving the bathroom, but he was happy he had something to take his mind and focus off the snickers all around him.

_[Daryl]: Putting ur shoes on ur jeep_

[Rick]: My shirt?

_[Daryl]: Duh_

[Rick]: That wasn't embarrassing. Think any1 suspects anything?

God, Rick hoped not. It was bad enough Michonne and Tara knew. He had a feeling Aaron and Eric were onto them too. Last thing they needed was anyone else sticking their head into their business when they really had no idea what the hell they were doing. Rick didn't anyway, maybe Daryl had a clue.

_[Daryl]: Nah, prolly just gonna rip on us for awhile._

[Rick]: Hope so.

[Rick]: U leaving?

_[Daryl]: N a minute._

Daryl wasn't about to admit that he was waiting around for him. He wasn't a lovesick puppy, that was for damn sure. And it wasn't like he would get a 'goodnight' kiss from him either, not in plan view of the firehouse.

He busied himself with a trip to the tool room to root around for a screwdriver. He had been meaning to tighten up a screw on one of the handles in the firetruck. It wasn't anything that couldn't wait, but he would admit that he was stalling. Not for Rick, though, but because the sound of his bike was going to aggravate his headache...maybe a little for Rick.

"Thought ya already left," Phillip said from behind him.

Daryl flinched but was able to keep from jumping out of his freshly tied boots when the man startled him. "Nah, jus' remembered I needed to tighten a loose screw," he replied over his shoulder.

"Ya'll get in trouble for drinkin' in the house?" Phillip asked, moving closer towards him. He picked up a random part from a shelf and Daryl watched out of the corner of his eye as he examined it before putting it back down.

Daryl grunted a noncommittal reply as his hand found the Phillips head he was looking for. He turned to leave the room when the other tool of the same name moved to block his path. "What's your problem, man?" Daryl asked, his eyes narrowing in on the taller man.

"Rick is my problem. He's a bad penny, and just as I thought, he keeps gettin' people hurt. He's gonna get _you_ and everyone else hurt. Look what happened to Ty and Bob."

"That wasn't his fault. Rick hasn't gotten anyone hurt. It's that psycho arsonist dickhole who's responsible for that shit!"

"Why are ya defendin' him, huh? Ya sleepin' with him? 'Cause ya'll looked pretty damn cozy upstairs," Phillip snarled, lips pursed and twisting into an odious scowl.

"Ya don't know what the hell you're talkin' about!" Daryl yelled, moving to go around him, but Phillip followed suit and blocked his path once more, grabbing him by the shoulders with a bruising grip.

And then Phillip did something so strange that Daryl wasn't sure it was actually happening or if he was having some kind of cardiac episode. Phillip kissed him; he pressed his cold lips to Daryl's and plunged his slimy tongue into his mouth when he opened it to gasp in horror. If Daryl hadn't been so traumatized by that he might've thrown up.

He froze in place for half a second until the sound of the screwdriver clanging to the ground shocked him back into himself. He pushed Phillip away and fixed him with a wide-eyed stare, unsure of what the hell he was supposed to say. Because what could he say?

"He's no good for you," Phillip said, beating him to the punch. His voice was smooth and even and sent a disturbing chill down Daryl's spine.

Is that why Phillip had such a problem with Rick? Because he was jealous? Because _he_ wanted him? Daryl had the strongest urge to vomit or brush his teeth—ideally both—at the thought. He had never been attracted to a man before Rick, and he most certainly wasn't attracted to Phillip Blake.

The man had always given off an unsettling vibe to him like he was balancing on the cusp of madness. And maybe he decided to take a flying leap off the deep end because what else explained it?

"You stay the hell away from me," Daryl snapped, finally pushing passed him.

But Phillip grabbed his arm and swung him around until they were face to face, his voice just above a whisper and full of venom, "If ya know what's good for ya, ya'll stay away from 'im. He's nothing but trouble and I don't wanna see ya hurt."

Daryl couldn't believe what he was hearing. He had to blink to make sure he wasn't seeing things. "You threatenin' me?"

Phillip's chest rose and fell in rapid succession, his coffee tainted breath smacking Daryl in the face like a freight train and his hold unwavering. "Jus' callin' it like I see it is all."

"I can take care a' myself!"

Daryl wrenched his arm free and hurried out of the room, making his way straight for the exit. It wasn't until he was outside that he was able to breathe again. The fantom feeling of Phillip's hands on him had him near convulsions. Forget the damn toothbrush, he needed to gargle with bleach.

Rick was waiting by his jeep, but the last thing he wanted to do was talk to him after being kissed by another man. Assaulted by another man? He went over to his bike and climbed on without a word. He felt disgusting. He had to get the fuck out of there and take a bath in acid before he let Rick touch him again. If Rick would even want to.

Rick was taking his boots and shirt off the hood of his car when he noticed Daryl behind him. The man looked visibly upset when he turned around, and he wondered if Merle had laid into him for drinking in the house. He didn't think it was that serious of an offense, but maybe Merle was harder on him because they were brothers.

"Hey, 'm sorry if I got ya in trouble," Rick said, trying and failing to get Daryl to meet his eyes.

" 'S fine. I gotta get," Daryl said, his words short and clipped, and Rick couldn't help but feel like it was his fault somehow.

Maybe Daryl was having second thoughts. Maybe the fact that they were now the station's laughing stock after they were caught in a compromising position on the same damn couch had sobered him up in more ways than one. God, why was this so complicated? He did not like this dating shit at all!

"Yeah, see ya tomorrow," Rick waved and got in his jeep to head home.

*****

Rick had spent the rest of the morning sleeping off his hangover. He made an easy breakfast of toast and scrambled eggs before catching a quick shower and heading to bed. He didn't want to think about what happened last night or earlier that morning because it just led him to thoughts of Daryl's tormented eyes when they finally said their hasty goodbye.

He was woken up around one p.m. by a knock on the door. It was just as well, he was having a fitful sleep and kept waking up every twenty minutes. After pulling on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, he made his way down the hall to answer it.

"Hey Rick," said Pete, his huge smile dimming a smidgen when he took in Rick's haggard appearance. "Rough night?"

"You could say that," he said, running his hand across the stubble on his chin before continuing, "Need something?"

Pete nodded and held up a memory cartridge, "Just brought another set of pictures by."

"Thanks, I appreciate it...say, ya didn't happen to catch the explosion, did ya?" Rick asked, sniffing for clues. He didn't think Pete was the arsonist, but at that point, he was willing to consider everyone a suspect.

"No, and it's a real shame about what happened to your brothers. I had gotten a page from the hospital after a bus crash. They needed extra help," Pete said.

"I think I heard about that on the news awhile back. Everyone lived right?"

"Sure did, had to do a few back to back surgeries, though. Anyway, I should get back. The sink is clogged up, but I'll take a look at it. You probably need to recover from whatever you got up to last night," he chuckled, winking before he turned around.

"Thanks again," Rick said as he shut the door. He didn't think Pete was lying, but Rick was reluctant to cross the man off his list. Something about the guy rubbed him the wrong way. Maybe he should've been a cop; he had good instincts.

Rick took the memory card and went into the kitchen were his laptop was sitting on the table. He started it up, but before he could load the pictures, there was another knock on the door. He hoped it wasn't Milly from down the hall. He really wasn't in the mood to do any repairs, let alone fix something that had deliberately been broken.

"Daryl," he said in surprise when he opened the door once more.

"Hey, I was just..." Daryl looked around as he raised his thumb to his teeth and began to gnaw on the cuticle. "Can I come in for a sec?"

"Yeah, sure," Rick replied, moving out of the way so he could enter. If he had known Daryl would be stopping by, he might've tidied up the apartment a little. The place wasn't messy but it did look like two dudes lived there. "What's goin' on?"

"Somethin' happened this mornin' and...well, I wasn't sure if I should tell ya or not, but...."

"Was it somethin' I did? Did Merle get onto ya? Are we gonna get suspended?" Rick couldn't help but ramble on until Daryl held his hands up for him to stop.

"Phillip kissed me," Daryl blurted out. He was sure that would be the end of whatever him and Rick had, even though he hadn't kissed the man back. But who would want to kiss him after that toad had his tongue in his mouth?

Rick's eyes went wide with rage, "What?"

"He fuckin' kissed me, grabbed my shoulders and fuckin' kissed me, right on the damn mouth. I froze, didn't know what ta do, but then I finally pushed him away when he jammed his tongue down my throat," he visibly shivered. "That's why I ran, had ta get home and fuckin' sterilize my mouth."

Daryl was pacing while he recounted the ordeal, and it must've been an ordeal because Rick couldn't imagine anyone kissing that slime ball willingly.

"Why the fuck did he do that?" Rick screeched. He wasn't exactly a jealous man, but what the actual fuck?

"I think he likes me, think he's jealous of ya," Daryl said. He decided to leave out the part about the man constantly telling him Rick wasn't good enough for him. He was starting to suspect—if the kiss wasn't clear enough—that Phillip had a crush on him. It was beginning to creep him out a little, but he wasn't ready to deal with that yet.

"Ya want me to talk to him?" Rick asked, and by talk he meant punch Phillip in the face. They had one date and another man was already trying to move in on his territory.

"No, Asshole! That'd prolly make it worse. Jus' thought you should know, in case ya don't wanna...I don't know...."

"What? Wouldn't wanna kiss ya anymore?"

Daryl looked away and let out a deep sigh, "I don't know, do ya?"

Rick smirked at that then proceeded to grab the collar of Daryl's vest and pull him in until their bodies were flush. "Ya brushed your teeth, right?"

"Fuck you!" he scoffed but slipped his hands around Rick's waist, "...ten fuckin' times and I still can't get the taste of dickweed outta my mouth."

"I might be able to help with that," Rick said, leaning in to kiss him, just a few pecks at first, a tentative meeting of lips. "That better?" he asked. Daryl shook his head, a flirty grin adorning his lips. "Guess I'll just have ta do better."

Rick led him over to the couch where they made out for awhile, both happy that their bizarre morning hadn't screwed anything up between them. He wasn't quite ready to do anything more than kissing under the same roof he shared with his son, so after their lips started to chaff along with other parts of them from rutting against each other, they had a couple of sandwiches for lunch.

"So Phillip is jealous of me," Rick theorized, swigging some tea Jessie had made for them. It was a little too cloying sweet for his taste, but Carl liked it.

He didn't want to jump to conclusions, but what if it was Phillip behind the arsons? He had first hand experience dealing with fires, he was off shift when all of them occurred, and he had a possible motive to target him. It was probably nothing, but Rick decided he should keep a closer eye on the man in the future. If for nothing else than to keep him away from Daryl.

"Ain't _that_ hard to believe," Daryl said, rolling his eyes. He snagged a few Cheetos off Rick's napkin and shrugged when he glared at him. Rick wasn't as upset when Daryl made a show of sucking the cheesy residue off his fingers.

Daryl left right after they finished their late lunch. Rick didn't think it would be a good idea if he was there when Carl got home from his sleepover. It was bad enough the kid knew he had a date, he didn't want him getting the impression his dad was an easy lay too. 

*****

When Rick first got to the firehouse the next morning for his shift, he wanted to crawl under a rock and never come out. Someone—his money was on Shane—had gotten ahold of the picture of Daryl sleeping on his chest from the previous morning, blew it up, and had several posters printed out and hung up around the house.

If that wasn't enough, all the coffee mugs had been replaced by ones with the infamous image on it and everyone, even Maggie, whom he was quite disappointed in, were wearing t-shirts with the picture printed on them. He was sure Daryl was going to go off on everybody when he arrived. But he didn't. Instead, he shrugged it off.

After an hour of relentless hazing, Rick had to know how Daryl was handling it so well.

[Rick]: Y aren't u more upset about this? They have mugs Daryl, MUGS!

_[Daryl]: idk, guess b/c it keeps reminding me what I did 2 u on my brother's desk. :p_

Rick supposed he had a point there. And at the very least, the cake they had at lunch was mighty tasty. Even if it did read RICK & DARYL FOREVER in rainbow letters. Or perhaps because of it.


	27. Gay Fairy Godparents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fourth of July party

Rick and Daryl didn’t talk about their date or what happened at the firehouse for over a week. Things at work went back to something akin to normal and they fell back into their old pattern of trying to annoy the hell out of each other when they weren’t avoiding the other. 

Rick had started to get a little paranoid after seeing the image of Daryl sleeping on him and the relentless teasing that came with it. He knew a few people had picked up on their ‘relationship’, but he wanted to keep things under wraps for as long as possible or at least until they were on the same page.

Firefighters were a rather gossipy bunch, and with loudmouths like Merle and Shane around, one could never be too careful with secret gay romances. At this stage, the less people who knew about them, the better.

He wasn’t sure how Daryl felt about having a relationship with him or another man, and he wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about it either. He certainly did not want to come off as an old, needy widower, so he was content to let Daryl make the next move assuming he’d even want to. 

The good—or bad—thing was that their week was a busy one and left little time for deep, meaningful conversations. 

It was the week of the Fourth of July and they were being run ragged by the higher than usual volume of emergency calls. Every firefighter in the city was on call, which left them all in a constant state of high alert.

Not surprisingly, a lot of said calls had to do with injuries or fires involving the use of fireworks, but they had a few that were from people who had no idea how to work a barbeque grill. That was the real tragedy. Luckily, there were no catastrophic injuries reported.

The week after the Fourth wasn’t quite as bad, but they were still on call. When things finally stabilized, everyone was relieved and slightly worn out. But that didn’t stop them from throwing a party to celebrate the holiday and the fact that they got through it. 

Rick knew that in the past Tyreese was the one who organized the post-Fourth party. He and Bob were still recovering from his injuries, but when Rick mentioned the possibility of moving it to Shane’s house over dinner one evening with the two of them plus Sasha and Carol, Ty had objected. Carol offered to help out and had ended up taking over most of the planning.

That was how Rick found himself with a twenty-four pack of beer in each arm as he walked up the pathway to the Williams/Stookey residence. They were going to decorate for the party that night, and by decorate, he was going to do whatever Carol and Sasha told him to.

“Hey guys, where do you want these?” he asked, sticking his head out the backdoor and holding up the boxes of suds.

“Uh, on the kitchen table for now. We’re waiting on ice for the coolers,” Carol replied from on top of a chair where she was hanging up some red, white, and blue lanterns along the fence. “On second thought, go ahead and put them in the coolers. Then we’ll just pour the ice on top.”

Rick had just ripped into one of the boxes when his phone buzzed in his back pocket. He thought it was Carl who was having a sleepover at Patrick’s for the night, but when he looked at the id, his heart started racing. It was Daryl. 

They hadn’t texted much since their date and he was nervous as hell.

[Daryl]: Need me 2 bring anything, Asshole?

[Rick]: Aww how sweet of u 2 offer Darlin but I think we got it covered

Rick wanted to add that he just needed to bring his hot self, but he wasn’t sure if that was appropriate. He wasn’t even sure if they were dating or if the one ‘date’ at the bar was the end of it. Fuck, they really should talk about things one of these days.

[Daryl]: What time u want me?

Daryl was starting to worry that Shane’s dumbass self and those stupid mugs and things had scared Rick off. He was hoping Rick would come to him, but he was getting tired of waiting. So maybe that text was a little more suggestive than it seemed on the surface.

He was only slightly disappointed when Rick didn’t flirt back. Was it too subtle? If Rick had been a woman, he would’ve already invited her back to his place or asked her on a second date, but would that be appropriate with Rick? He felt like a fish out of water about him and the idea of _them_ , and maybe, just maybe, a little out of his league.

[Rick]: I think everyone’s planning on showing up around 7. U can come earlier if u want. We got booze already.

[Rick]: Or later

Daryl was hoping for a little more interaction than that, but he didn’t want to seem like a needy bitch that needed reassurance of their relationship…especially since he wasn’t exactly sure they had one yet. Did one really amazing date make Rick his boyfriend? 

Fuck, he was a needy bitch!

He knew he would’ve rushed over if he hadn’t already accepted a ride from Michonne and Merle. Him and Rick really needed to find some time to talk that night, but he wasn’t going to hold his breath that it would happen since the place was going to be pretty packed. He was just glad that the Woodbury shift was on duty. That meant no run-ins with Phillip and his slimy tongue. 

The thought alone was making him crave a shower.

Rick spent the rest of the afternoon trying hard not to think about what he’d say when Daryl arrived. He practiced a million things in his head and ran different scenarios over a hundred different ways but was still no closer to discovering the answer to questions he wasn’t sure how to ask, the most important one being if Daryl was in fact his boyfriend.

He mulled over the word in his head. He kind of liked the sound of it, the way it rolled off his tongue, how people would look at them when they introduced each other, what their brothers and sisters would say when they went public. It was all rather exciting in between the moments of sheer terror. But maybe he could deal with those if he had Daryl.

*****

The first guests to arrive were Aaron and Eric. They brought some nice wine that Rick took and put up for Tyreese to enjoy later. It was his party and he deserved a little reward for volunteering to host the group.

“Hey Rick, I’m guessing this is your first House party as well,” Eric said as they made their way through the house to the backyard where the residents plus Carol were lounging around. 

“It is. We’ve all been out to bars, but this is the party of the year. I’ve been hearin’ about it since January,” Rick chuckled. 

“Will Daryl be coming?” Aaron asked. Rick failed—more like refused—to notice the knowing look the man shared with his husband at the seemingly innocuous question. 

“Uh, yeah, he’ll be here in awhile, I’m sure. I think everyone was comin’.”

Before they made it out to the yard, Aaron stepped in front of him and stopped the three of them in the kitchen. “We just wanted to let you know that if ya’ll need any… _advice_ that we are happy to answer any questions you may have,” he offered.

Rick felt his cheeks start to burn, “I’m not sure what ya mean,” he mumbled as he went to move around the taller man, attempting to reach for the handle on the sliding glass door. “We’re just friends.”

“Rick, you already told us that it was complicated. We know a thing or two about complicated is all we’re saying,” Eric added, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Rick decided that if anybody knew what he was probably going through it was the two of them. “Okay, so maybe there is somethin’ between us…I don’t really know.”

“Have you talked to him about it?” 

“Not exactly.”

Aaron nodded, “I think you should.”

“Have you kissed at least?” Eric smirked.

“Uh…” Rick stalled, swallowing thickly as he ran a hand over his face.

“I’m pretty sure that’s a yes,” Aaron winked at him. “Look, if you’re worried about moving things forward, because rumor is you are, or were, both straight, just take things slow. You were a virgin at being straight once too.”

“Yeah, but…I mean, we’ve done…a thing or two, but what about—”

“Anal sex?”

Rick knew his face lit up like a tomato at that. He was definitely not ready to go there. 

Thank god Eric picked up on it. “Okay, let’s start with something at little easier. Have you touched his cock?” 

Rick was momentarily taken aback at how nonchalant Eric was about asking the question, but he nodded his reply anyway, not trusting his own voice.

“With your mouth?”

“NO!” he shouted, quickly looking around to make sure no one had come in the kitchen without him noticing.

“Okay, well how about you work up to that,” Eric suggested.

“H-how do ya do that exactly?” Rick stuttered.

“Have you had a blowjob, Rick?” Aaron teased, his nice smile settling Rick’s frazzled nerves just a little bit.

“Of course I have!” He decided to leave out the part about it having been a very long time since his last. Probably over three years if he were counting, but he wasn’t. He had enough problems to deal with at the moment.

“Well I’d say the first time you give, just do what you like to have done to you, and listen to his cues like moans and sighs. I’m sure he’ll like it regardless of _technique._ ”

“You don’t have to deep throat him right out of the gate,” Eric added, and Rick was mostly successful at not chocking on his saliva. He thought deep throating was something that only happened in the porn videos he may or may not’ve watched for what were probably terrible tips.

“Just be sure to tuck your teeth behind your lips, ‘ike ‘is,” Aaron demonstrated, and Rick was considering running to the Pacific Ocean, swimming to the Mariana Trench, and taking up residence with all the weird creatures that lived down there. It might’ve been easier to learn how to breathe under water.

“Use a lot of spit and your hands as well,” said Eric, “Use them on the parts you can’t fit in your mouth. Also licking and tonging is good and don’t suck too hard…oh and breathe through your nose, you don’t—”

Thank god Shane decided to barge it right then because Rick was sure he was about to have a stroke. He didn’t think he could take any more cock talk at the moment. His head was spinning and he wasn’t sure how he was going to remember everything they were saying. It was all starting to run together. 

“Hey ya’ll, where’s the party at?” Shane grinned, pushing past everyone to head outside.

“Hey Andrea!” Rick greeted when she strolled into the kitchen. He did his best not to look guilty or suspicious, but he had a feeling he wasn’t successful by the look she gave him in return. “How are the kids?”

“They’re fine, thanks for asking,” she replied, “But I think I need a beer.”

Rick motioned to the backyard, “There are two full coolers outside on the patio.”

“Just don’t overthink it and remember to enjoy yourself,” Eric whispered in his ear as he and Aaron followed her out. 

It sounded like good advice and he did feel comfortable with the Raleigh’s. But maybe next time he’d seek one of them out at a time. He felt a little on the spot with both of them staring at him like he was a virginal flower…even though he kind of was.

After grabbing himself a beer, he found him an empty chair at sat down. He was planning on getting shitfaced after the month and a half they just had. He had already been promised a guest room to crash in since he helped with the party and wouldn’t be driving. So why the fuck not?

Ty regaled them all with stories from when he was a probie and was wrapping one up when Rick heard Merle’s loudmouth cackling filtering out of the house. His heart may’ve sped up. Why was he so nervous to see Daryl? Maybe he was just hoping for some alone time with him.

No, that’s exactly what he was hoping for.

Michonne came out of the house next. Daryl followed wearing a sleeveless cutoff shirt that Rick was really starting to think should be illegal with those guns of his and a loose fitting pair of jeans that hung off his thighs, but still managed to highlight his ass rather nicely…so Rick noticed when the man bent over to snag himself a beer.

He managed to look away after Daryl caught him staring, but his eyes landed on Eric and Aaron who were both smirking at him. He had a hunch his new gay fairy godparents were loving their awkwardness.

“Ol’ Merle’s here, the party can start!” yelled the Captain, popping the top on a Coors and downing the whole thing in one go. He crushed the aluminum in his hand and threw it on the ground, wiping away the dribble on his chin with his sleeve, “Damn this shit sucks!”

“It was on sale,” Rick said to nobody in particular.

“What’s the matter, Asshole? My brother ain’t payin’ ya enough?” Daryl chided. 

“Nah, Darlin’ just gotta save up to take you someplace nice,” he countered. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t as rusty and nervous as he thought.

The group enjoyed a hearty laugh at that. Shane got out his wallet and started waving around a twenty-dollar bill, “I don’t mind chippin’ in if ya’ll make sure to send me some more pictures.”

“Are ya sure you want _those_ kind of photos?” T-Dog asked, wiggling his brows.

“No, I certainly do not,” he conceded, sticking the bill back in his wallet.

“Fuck off, Walsh! I’m gonna take those damn mugs and throw ‘em all of the roof,” he threatened. It was hollow; he kind of liked the idea of everyone knowing Rick was his…or something stupid and sappy like that.

“Just don’t hit the car. It’s not paid for yet,” Andrea quipped.

As more and more people filtered in, the gang started to splinter into groups. Daryl found himself eyeing Rick more and more and inching closer to the grill he’d been hovering around as he talked to Morgan and Sasha.

Just as he was about to make his approach, Aaron and Eric intercepted him. “How are things going with you and Rick? Aaron asked quietly.

“What the fuck you talkin’ about?” he all but whispered, his eyes shifting back and forth to make sure no one overheard what Aaron said. He glared at the man who didn’t seem as fazed by his hostile scowl as most people did.

“It’s not our place, but—”

“Yer right, it ain’t,” he spat.

“We just wanted you to know that if you ever have any questions—”

“I don’t.” He did. But what was he supposed to say? 

_‘I think I’m dating Rick, but I’m too much of a coward to talk to him about it and maybe if I just play it cool he’ll jack me off again or maybe suck me off assuming he’d be okay with something like that, and assuming he had a clue as to how the hell that was even supposed to work.’_

Yeah, he didn’t think that would go over too well. Or maybe he was afraid Rick wouldn’t feel the same way about him. He did spend months and months being a pain in his ass. Of course he couldn’t help but wonder if Rick would mind him being a literal pain in his ass.

How did that work exactly? Was he supposed to…or would Rick want too? Jesus, he should really Google that shit or something.

“It’s just that we talked to Rick and he was—” Eric tried to say, but Daryl interrupted before he could finish.

“Ya’ll talked ta Rick? He talked to ya’ll ‘bout me, ‘bout _us_?”

“It was more like we gave him some advice on a few things that might come in handy later on,” Aaron said.

Daryl chewed on his thumb as he looked around to make sure no one was eaves dropping, “What kinda stuff?” He couldn’t lie, he was curious. 

“About possibly moving things forward.”

What the hell did that mean? Did Rick want to move things forward with him?

“We gave him some tips on oral sex,” Eric whispered.

Okay that certainly peaked his interests. “ ‘M listenin’.”

“Hey baby brother?” Merle yelled from across the yard. “Why don’cha go get the four bottles a’ whiskey you and yer boyfriend were kind enough ta get me so we can kick this party up a notch?”

“Dammit, Merle, can’t ya get ‘em yerself!” he hollered back. He really wanted to know what Aaron and Eric had to say. He’d had enough blowjobs to maybe be able to wing it, but it didn’t hurt to get pointers from someone who actually knew their way around a cock better than he did.

“Nah got my hands full,” Merle laughed. He had a beer in one hand and Michonne’s ass in another. 

“Fine!” he huffed as he set out for the truck. He’d just have to find Aaron and Eric later. 

After digging around under the driver’s seat of Merle’s gas-guzzler, he located the whiskey and pulled out the bag they were stuffed it. What he didn’t expect to find was Rick leaning against the truck when he slammed the door. He nearly dropped the bag but recovered without looking too much like an idiot.

“Hey,” Rick said, “Thought I’d see if ya needed any help.”

“I don’t,” Daryl instinctively bit back but felt like a jackass for it when Rick’s grin tarnished.

“Oh…I’ll jus’ be goin’ then.” Rick turned and started back to the house, but before he could get too far, Daryl grabbed his arm to stop him. He spun around which brought them face to face.

They stared at each other for a minute before Daryl looked away. Rick’s eyes were just so blue and open, and he wasn’t sure what to say but that didn’t stop his mouth from spewing out words. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“I-I don’t either…but I wanna figure it out…wanna do this…want…want you.”

Daryl was able to meet his eyes at that and nodded in agreement, "Want you too." 

Then he felt Rick’s fingers tighten in his shirt, those plump lips leaning in, and he surged forward the rest of the way unable to help himself. The arm holding the whiskey curled around Rick’s back and his other hand cupped his neck as they stood in the street, lips locked as they shared a searing kiss.

He couldn’t help but smile when they broke part. Because yeah, Rick Grimes was definitely his boyfriend.


	28. Pillars of Salt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fourth of July party part 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised...some eye bleach. ;-)

Rick wasn’t sure how long they stood there in the street swapping spit. He might’ve heard a few passing cars honking, but his senses were all wrapped up in Daryl, the feel of the pythons constricting around him, the burning lips caressing his, the smell of smoke that never left them, and the taste of beer on his tongue.

Of course, he did manage to hear the throat clearing beside them, both freezing like pillars of salt as they contemplated their fate. Was this is? Was everyone about to know? About them, about whatever it was they were doing? He was sure he was dating Daryl now, but he was hesitant to use the ‘b’ word just yet.

“Oh. My. God,” Glenn gawked.

“Ya’ll gonna stand out here making out all night or are ya gonna bring in the booze?” Maggie asked.

Like Glenn, Rick wasn’t able to speak, but Daryl was. “Yeah, we’re done,” he said pulling away, and Rick was sure they both hated Glenn and Maggie in that moment.

The four made their way up the brick walkway towards the house surrounded by a cloud of awkward silence. “Ya’ll gonna say anythin’?” Rick asked just as his foot hit the front porch, the desperation clear in the waver of his voice.

Maggie smirked, looking back and forth between the two of them, “ ‘Bout what?”

“ ‘Bout… _that,_ ” Daryl said, chewing on his thumb, arms crossed over his chest as he closed himself off.

“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Maggie grinned. “Ain’t our business, but you’re lucky no one came out to find ya’ll.”

Rick agreed and went from hate to love because what would they have done if Shane had come looking for them before Maggie and Glenn showed up to distract them? Or Merle? He might’ve shit an actual brick. Hell, they all might’ve.

“Thanks Maggie. I’m not sure we know what the hell we’re doing just yet,” Rick confessed, coyly looking to Daryl who gave the slightest nod of agreement.

All three of them turned their attention to Glenn whose face had started to regain its color after his shock. “I’m…I won’t say anything,” the probie agreed. “It’s just…unexpected.”

“Yer tellin’ me,” Daryl mumbled under his breath as the foursome continued through the house and out into the backyard.

“Well it’s about damn time!” Merle shouted. “Thought ya’ll up an’ ran off ta Vegas or some shit like that.”

“Or decided ta play seven minutes in heaven in a closet somewhere,” Shane heckled. 

It was obvious from the various types of snickers that went around who knew about them and who didn’t. The knowing smiles were starting to outnumber the teasing ones, and for once, Rick was actually okay with that. He wasn’t quite ready to sing Daryl’s name from the mountaintops, but he felt they were going in the right direction at least.

“How ‘bout I shove yer ass in a closet and lock you in?” Daryl countered.

“Just tell me where ya’ll are registered, so I can get ya a gravy boat.”

“Shut up, Walsh.”

Abraham and a few of the Red shift walked in at that point and everyone’s focus turned to them. The next few hours were spent mingling with their brothers and sisters, eating hotdogs from the grill, and drinking. Rick wasn’t exactly a lightweight, but he’d pounded quite a bit of that whiskey he bought determined to get his money’s worth.

Daryl had stayed close by him most of the night. Maybe not physically so, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off Rick, the black plaid shirt he had on framed his body too fucking perfectly for that, and he needed to find out where he got those jeans because he needed to buy up the whole store so he’d never run out. The man was sex on a stick and he aspired to be the stick.

Carol had gotten a cake to celebrate America’s birthday, and most everyone gathered around to blow out the sparklers. S’mores and a lot more drinking followed the cake. Merle had even rounded up some Roman candles to shoot off and Shane had a pocket full of blackcats he kept setting off and scaring people with.

All and all, everyone had a good time.

It was well after midnight when the herd started to thin. Rick wasn’t quite seeing double, but he was pretty lit. Daryl wasn’t far behind. That was when Rick got the bright idea to try out some of those techniques Aaric or Eron or whoever had been telling him about earlier.

“Hey, D-darlin’, gotta show ya somethin’,” he said with a loud whisper in his ear. A round of infectious giggles followed that Daryl couldn’t help but join him in.

“What is it, Asshole?”

“Shhh, I think I left it in the house.”

Michonne and Sasha, whom Daryl had been talking to about something ridiculous like sharks with lasers on their heads, shared a look. “Bes’ go, Daryl,” Michonne encouraged, having a pretty good idea what might be in store for them from the looks they had been exchanging all night.

“Yeah, it sounds important,” Sasha teased.

“Oh it is!” Rick fucking giggled again as he grabbed Daryl by the forearm and started to drag him inside.

“Just make sure Shane’s not around to take pictures,” Michonne hollered after. Daryl politely flipped her off.

No one really noticed they were gone. The couples had pretty much started making out with each other and everyone else was either gone or comfortably drunk and wrapped up in their own little worlds by then.

“Where we goin’ Rick?” Daryl whispered in his ear, and an earthquake shook the ground Rick walked on. Or maybe that was just his body quivering with the feel of Daryl’s breath wafting over the skin of his neck.

“Gotta show ya a new t-trick I heard about.”

He headed straight for the coat closet in the front hall, hoping that would afford them some semblance of privacy. A puking Shane occupied the downstairs bathroom they passed, and Rick was just sober enough not to bother with a bedroom; they’d get way too comfortable in a bed.

But when he opened the door, they were in for a treat! Aaron was on his knees in front of Eric and had a mouthful of cock. Eric cursed when the door flew open, but his wide-eyed stare quickly turned into a devilish smirk once he registered who had disturbed them.

Rick and Daryl stood there frozen once again as they watched Aaron—who hadn’t missed a beat—run his tongue up the underside of his husband’s shaft, looking up at him before swallowing him back down. Eric’s eyes were focused on the intruders, but the moan he let out stole Rick and Daryl’s focus from the blowjob. Eric winked at them before running his hand through Aaron’s hair and tugging the man further onto him.

That was enough to shake Rick from his trance. “We gotta go, Daryl,” he said, voice gruff as he slammed the door and fisted a hand in Daryl’s shirt. He pulled him up the stairs towards the second floor bathroom, and Daryl couldn’t help but think he was a man on a mission. He’d have to remember to sacrifice some squirrels to the powers that be for that!

When they got upstairs, Eugene was holding Tara’s hair back as she painted porcelain. “Will ya’ll be done soon?” Rick asked, impatience and _need_ starting to overtake his usual laid-back vibe.

“By my calculations, she has vomited upwards of half her stomach contents for the evening. I estimate that she will be here for another five minutes before—”

“Shut the fuck up, Eugene!” Daryl snapped. His cock was swelling in his pants and what he really wanted to do within the next five minutes was to get Rick’s mouth on him not sit through a lecture on alcohol poisoning.

Eugene looked back and forth between the two of them unsure of what to say. Rick elbowed Daryl in the ribs as he looked at Tara with concern, “You okay there, Tara?”

Her answer was interrupted by another round of vomiting.

“Yeah,” she finally answered, flushing the toilet and standing up. She bent over the sink and washed her mouth out before started for the door. She only made it a few steps before turning back around and flopping down on her knees.

“What about yer jeep?” Daryl whispered to Rick. He was started to get desperate.

Rick turned around and pulled Daryl out into the hall. There was one more bathroom down in Sasha and Bob’s basement apartment. They were still out back as far as Rick knew, so that’s where he headed, silently hoping they would be preoccupied for a while. Because dammit! He was not about to give his first blowjob in the backseat of a damn car. They were grown ass men, not horny teens.

They made it to the door that connected the house with the apartment and Rick took a quick look around to make sure no one would see them sneaking downstairs. Daryl growled behind him and that was pretty much the end of him giving a shit. He swung the door open and down they went, Daryl’s hands sweeping over him like hurricane winds, stirring up some decent sized debris down below as they tunneled under his shirt.

Rick was sure they were going to fall down the stairs at one point, but they made it in one piece. At the bottom, Daryl plastered himself to Rick’s back those hands creeping around from his hips to splay on his stomach, fingers tickling the light dusting of hair just under his naval and inching downward as they moved forward.

The basement was dark, but Rick knew his way around well enough so that he only bumped his shins on a coffee table once before they made it into the bathroom. Rick reached for the light and Daryl closed the door behind them when they were safely inside…alone…finally!

Rick pushed Daryl into the door and sealed his mouth over his, and if he hadn’t been drunk already, he probably would’ve been intoxicated by the way Daryl’s lips slid so perfectly against his, tongues undulating in a pitifully uncoordinated dance that would’ve been embarrassing if Rick had been sober enough to realize it.

He lifted the hem of Daryl’s shirt above his head to strip it off and started kissing at the now exposed skin on his shoulder, down to his collarbone, then up toward his neck, sucking lightly as he went. Daryl had his hands in Rick’s hair not quite guiding him but making sure he got to the right places like that spot right below his ear that made his knees a little shaky.

“Fuck, yer a good kisser,” Daryl whispered in his ear. Rick took that as an invitation to reclaim his lips, trembling hands falling to his belt.

After a minute of useless fumbling, Rick let out a frustrated whine that set off another round of contagious giggles. 

“Shuddup,” he snickered to Daryl who was both amused and beginning to grow impatient. Rick eventually got the leather strap free and unhooked the buckle.

That part and the next were somewhat familiar. He undid Daryl’s pants and reached in to take him in hand, feeling the member lengthening with each stroke. He sunk to his knees to stare the spitting cobra in the eye. If he had been a lesser man—or one more sober at least—he might’ve chickened out at that, but he was a bit curious as to what Daryl tasted like, and since there was a nice pocket of precum collecting at the tip, he decided to partake.

He stuck out his tongue and swiped the tip of it along the slit he knew to be rather sensitive. The thudding of Daryl’s head against the door was masked by the moan that tumbled out of his mouth and Rick couldn’t help but smirk as he looked up to admire what he’d done. 

Daryl’s chest was heaving, lips parted and the bottom one quivering. He couldn’t tell, but he figured his eyes were closed. An unexpected amount of pride rose up in him at the knowledge that he was responsible for Daryl’s current state of excitement.

“ ‘S’at good?”

“Fuck yeah, Rick. Do it again,” Daryl rasped. His voice—sexed up and dripping with arousal—was enough to cause Rick’s cock to twitch in his jeans, but he knew that if he took the little guy out, he wouldn’t last long enough for Daryl to reciprocate, and that just wasn’t acceptable.

So he ignored the heat building in his own bones and went back to concentrating on Daryl. He ran the tip of his tongue along the seam of his cock once more, the tangy fluid he lapped up not altogether unpleasant. He couldn’t help but giggle again at the realization that he just licked his first cock.

“Would ya stop laughing so close to my dick, Asshole? Jesus Christ! Yer gonna give me a complex.”

“Darlin’, I really ain’t got no basis for comparison,” Rick assured him.

His next step—if you could call them steps, he was essentially winging the whole thing—was the tricky part, but he followed Aaron’s example. He lifted the heavy member and ran his tongue along the underside, taste buds catching on the spider web of sweltering veins on his way up.

Daryl let out another moan at that, the sound of which encouraged him to keep going. He made a few more passes before he was brave enough to suck the head of Daryl’s dick into his mouth. Except he may’ve been a little too enthusiastic with his sucking because the hand tangled in his hair wrenched him loose and both let out a muddled cry.

“Shit! That was… Fuck, I almost came! Would ya slow down a minute?” Daryl groused. He shouldn’t be complaining, but it was the first time Rick had his lips on him so forgive him for wanting to have it last long enough for him to commit it to memory.

“It ain’t like I know what the fuck I’m doin’ Daryl!” Rick groaned. The next round of suction was apparently not enough because Daryl grumbled again, but the third time was just right, and he wondered if that was what Goldie Locks experienced when she gave head for the first time.

He gave a few bobs down Daryl’s shaft that went pretty well if he did say so himself, except he got cocky and ended up gagging somewhere along the way and had to make a quick retreat for air. But after the initial—and very understandable—flubs, he was able to find his cock-sucking groove. Their gay fairy godparents would be pleased.

One hand moved to work the base, like Eric had suggested, while he alternated sucking with swirling his tongue along the upper half. His other hand rested lamely on Daryl’s hip—he’d have to ask Eric what to do with it for next time.

Gradually, he increased his speed until Daryl was moaning a beautiful melody above him, little raspy whispers of curses and Rick’s name echoing off the light blue tiles, and Rick began to wonder if he should attempt to swallow as Daryl approached his release.

But the pondering would have to be left for another day because he did something with his tongue—what, he’d have to figure out later—that had Daryl shooting off without warning. It initiated his gag reflex, but he swallowed most of the come Daryl deposited in his mouth and only choked a little. He considered that a success.

Daryl was blissed out for a good while before he was able to look back down at Rick. He was still on his knees watching him. It might’ve made him self-conscious if not for the way he was staring back, eyes all black as he looked up with an expectant wonder. His cheeks were rosy from more than the alcohol and there was a mess of curls that sat atop his head.

“My turn?” Daryl asked, a cheeky grin lighting up his face. Rick stood a little too fast at that and he had to reach out to stabilize him. “Ya alri—” The question was cut off with a burning kiss as Rick backed them up against the sink. 

Rick had one hand working on his pants and the other draped over Daryl's shoulder clinging to him while they kissed, but his hand was swatted away when Daryl took over. He was marginally more sober than Rick and knew he needed to get the show on the road while he still had the nerve to do so.

He dropped to his knees as he pulled Rick’s jeans down with him. Li'l Ricky, as it was most certainly _not_ known in his head, was fully hard and the tip was glistening with moisture. That turned him on a lot more than he had anticipated. 

His fingers curled around Rick’s cock and he drew them slowly down the shaft. The angle was all wrong, but he could get used to it. Apparently Rick could too because he let out a hearty moan when he started back up that gave him a small confidence boost. 

“D-daryl...mouth,” Rick slurred, but it made Daryl tell himself to man up and stop pussyfooting around.

Rick sucked in a noisy breath when he engulfed the head and Daryl began to mimic the movements the other man had performed on him. It was difficult to remember though because he had gotten lost in the feeling of lips and tongue, but Eric had whispered something about hands and spit so he did his best to incorporate those into said show.

Except he might've used a little too much of the former. He was glad Rick wasn't more sober because the idiot might've made a crack about getting sucked off by Slimer. Even so, whatever he was doing must've been sufficient because Rick was making all kinds of interesting sounds above him that had him asking, “Ya always this loud?”

“Suck, baby, jus’ suck meee,” Rick whined.

Daryl did but only because he wanted to shut him up and not dwell on the fact that Rick just called him baby. Otherwise he would've been grinning like a damn fool. With any luck the man was too drunk to....

“Jus' called ya baby,” he started to giggle.

“Would ya shut up, Asshole? 'M tryin’ ta concentrate here,” Daryl chided. “ ‘N don't call me baby when I'm suckin' yer dick or it won't be happenin’ again.”

Rick decided from then on out that he'd always call him baby when he was sucking his cock. But that was the last thing he remembered before whiting out and coming in Daryl's mouth, toes curled, chest sputtering with the force of it all. He was surprised he lasted longer than two minutes. 

Daryl would later tell him he didn't when he bragged about how good he was, but Rick distinctly remembered hearing him choking too and mumbling something about warning a guy next time, so he figured it all evened out.

Rick reached for the washcloth on the towel rack and cleaned himself up before tossing it to Daryl. After pulling his pants up, he slid down to the floor beside the other man who was slumped against the cabinets. They sat there in silence for a while, breathing regulating itself as their post-orgasmic high began to give way to drowsiness.

“So…” Rick said, voice almost a whisper. They weren’t quite touching, but he could feel the waves of heat coming off Daryl and his hand was only a hair’s breadth from his. He wanted to reach out and grab it, but before he could will himself to move, Daryl had covered his with his own and vined their fingers together.

“So…” he mirrored, brain still a little scrambled from the inebriating haze of alcohol and head.

“That’s how that works.” 

“Yep.”

“We should probably head back upstairs before anyone notices we’re gone,” Rick suggested, knee popping when he reluctantly rose to his feet. He pulled Daryl up after, and they shared one last kiss of the night before straightening themselves out and rejoining the remnants of the party.

Rick was exhausted by the time he made it to the spare bedroom Tyreese had offered him for the night, but when he went to crawl under the covers, he realized a passed out Tara and her strange guardian, Eugene, already occupied it. He sighed and started back downstairs.

When he got to the living room, Aaron and Eric were sprawled out on the couch. Thankfully, they were both zonked out. He didn’t think he’d be able to look either of them in the eye after the scene in the closest.

He kicked off his boots so he could claim the matching loveseat before anyone else zeroed in on it and was asleep before his head even hit the armrest. 

Daryl had intended to sober up enough to drive home, but when he went looking for Merle and instead found a Sleeping Beauty on the sofa, he didn’t want to leave. So he made himself comfortable on the recliner and tried to sleep. And if he spent a few minutes watching Rick do so before his eyes drifted closed…well, that was nobody’s business but his own.

When he woke up the next morning with blue eyes cutting into him like a chisel to stone, he couldn’t help the smile that tried to split his face in two. Rick gave a small shy one back, and for the first time since they started whatever it was that they started, he didn’t have the urge to run away.


	29. A Jungle Down There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Carol have a chat then Rick and Daryl have a 'chat'.

With half the house knowing about their relationship, the teasing increased exponentially in the two weeks following the Fourth of July party. Rick didn’t really mind; he and Daryl had broken past the awkwardness pretty quickly and were back to their usual banter. They seemed to be able to swing back to center more quickly after each blunder, and he considered that progress.

Rick hadn’t exactly worked up the courage to invite Daryl over yet to his apartment, or vice versa and neither had pushed. They’d shared a heated kiss in the bathroom a few times, usually after they’d been making eyes at each other in the gym, but that had been the extent of their physical relationship.

After a two-year dry spell, Rick knew he could go for months at a time without any carnal contact, but fuck if he wanted to. Daryl had busted in the floodgates and he was starting to die of thirst. He was pretty sure that was why the sexting started.

He was home alone while Carl was at a Brave’s game with a friend when Daryl texted him about some innocuous thing concerning Merle’s upcoming birthday. He couldn’t even remember what it was because he then jokingly asked what Daryl was wearing, and when he got back a dick pic, it was all downhill from there.

That was fine with him, working their way up to something more intimate. He didn’t want to take the chance of rushing things and messing them up, so they had settled into a nice routine of sexting as soon as they got off shift and other times during their days off. But it was especially nice after work because being around Daryl all day and night always stoked a mighty flame in his belly.

That fueled the building of his knowledge on gay sex that an eager Aaron and Eric had started. He watched some porn but also cruised a few helpful websites, which is how he ended up in an awkward conversation with Carol.

He had been sitting at her kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee when she came in still in her pajamas. He was there to pick up Carl after he got off work, but he usually hung around for a while. On average it was an hour or two before the kid would wake up, and Rick knew better than to poke the hormonal bear when it wasn’t completely necessary.

He watched her scurry to the coffee machine and pour herself a mug, moving to the refrigerator to add a dash of milk before scampering over to the sugar bowl to heap in a couple of spoonfuls. Her shoulders were stiff and he had a feeling she was working up her nerve to confront him about something. 

She grabbed a straw to stir her coffee and tiptoed over to join him at the table. He knew he was right about her wanting to talk about something important when she refused to make eye contact with him, instead focusing on the placemat in front of her. 

He let out a sigh and broke the silence, "What is it?"

"Oh, it's probably nothing...I just, um...I found something and I'm not really sure...I don't want you to think I was spying, it's just that I was checking the internet history and found something a little...odd."

Rick froze at the mention of the internet. The previous Sunday, he had been waiting for the three of them to wake up so they could go out to breakfast when Daryl sent him a lewd text. He chided him and told him he was busy, but it peaked his curiosity about how it would be to move things a little further along. The laptop was wide open so he indulged, but he was pretty sure he wiped the history.

She took a calculated sip of her coffee before continuing on, "Now, I don't know what it means, he may just be curious, which is perfectly natural, but I found some searches that were...well, were about...," she fidgeted in her chair, "...about gay sex—"

"Carol—"

"It doesn't change who he is or how much we will love him if he's gay or straight or bisexual or something else, but I thought you should know he's looking up things like 'how to give a blowjob' and 'how to have anal sex', and as his father, you should probably talk to him about these things. You've talked to him about that stuff before, right? You might need to give it another go with this new information."

"Carol, he didn't do those searches," Rick said, tilting his head and hoping she’d get the message without him having to spell out the whole humiliating thing.

"He tried to delete them but I have a program on there to track Sophia's online time," she pressed on. "And if you're worried about him thinking you're spying on him, just blame me."

"I know it wasn't him."

"You can't mean it was Sophia?” she said, shaking her disbelieving head. “She wouldn't, she knows I monitor that stuff."

Rick rested his elbows on the table and covered his face with his hands, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "It wasn't Sophia either," he mumbled. He spread his fingers and peaked out between them to watch as her face went from confusion to skepticism to understanding then to shock.

"You didn't? You aren't...are you? Because what I was saying about not loving Carl any differently still applies, but I..."

He moved his hands away and sighed again, "It just kinda happened. I don't even know what the hell we're doin' I just...I kinda like him. It's all been very unexpected."

There was silence for a long moment before Carol spoke again, "Have ya kissed him yet?"

Rick could feel his cheeks heating up at the thought of Daryl's lips on his, among other things. He nodded as he looked away to hide some of the mixture of embarrassment and giddiness that the thought of Daryl conjured up. "It was, uh, it was good... _real_ good."

"Is that all?" she asked with a knowing smirk.

Now it was more than his cheeks as his whole face went red at the memory of them out in the woods then again in Merle’s office before settling on the drunken bathroom blowjobs that were less hazy than they should’ve been considering his state of mind at the time. He wanted more of those moments.

"All I'm tellin' ya about!" he admonished.

"Well, tell me about him, have you always liked guys, is this new? Where did ya'll meet? Spill!"

"Come on, Care, y'know I ain't ever really liked anyone but Lori...and I think it was a bigger shock ta me than it is you that he's a man. It's still new, y'know? As far as I can tell, it's just him."

Her eyes were bright with excitement as she continued to grill him for details. "When can I meet him, then? Have you introduced him to Carl?"

"It's...it's a 'recent development' but Carl said I have permission to start datin' again, and we have talked about him before, he's okay with him being a man. And yes, they’ve met just not…I mean, not officially. I haven’t officially introduced him to Carl as my…god Carol, I have a damn boyfriend!"

She took a moment to laugh at how flustered he had gotten when the pieces started to slide into place. That’s when she howled out, “Oh my god, it’s Daryl!”

“Jesus, Carol! Would ya calm down?”

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. The way you’ve been carrying on about him since you started working together always reminded me of someone with a schoolyard crush. Then I saw how you’ll acted around each other, like an old married couple,” she teased.

“Would ya stop? This is serious!” 

“I am being serious!” she insisted, but the laughter didn’t help her case. Noticing his distressed expression, she took a moment to compose herself. She knew it had taken a lot for him to come out to her about it. “Carl would be okay with it. Him and Sophia are growing up in different times." 

"I know, I just think I should hold off on that until I see where it's going. Don't want to bring home a string of people and make him think that I'll share my bed with anyone who walks by. That ain't me."

"I understand...when you're ready, I'll be there to help out any way I can," she said. She took a drink of coffee before her kind smile turned more mischievous, "What do ya think mom'll say?" 

Rick groaned, "Think I'm just gonna tackle one family member at a time."

“Why are you yelling?” Carl grunted as he dragged himself into the kitchen and plopped down on the closest chair. Sophia followed and sat in the open seat next to her mother.

“Nothing, but now that ya’ll are up, let’s go get breakfast,” Rick suggested, guzzling down the last of his coffee. He was glad Carol was supportive of him, but he had enough discussion on his love life for one day.

*****

The house had a string of three grassfire calls in a row on his next shift. Morgan was going on and on about people needing to be more responsible with their ‘dumbass cancer sticks’ when a call regarding a kitten in a tree came in. 

They all jumped into action. Contrary to popular believe, they didn’t get many cat-in-tree calls, but after the annoying freeway grassfires that were more of a hassle than dangerous, they were desperate for just about anything else, and a cat rescue sounded just about perfect.

A few minutes later, they pulled up, lights flashing, into a cul-de-sac. When they got out, they were met with a teary-eyed six-year old who had been the one to place the call. The poor thing was sobbing as she pointed up into a tall pine and said what Rick though might’ve been ‘Muffins.’ It was hard to tell through her wailing. 

No one had questioned it at the time, but he wondered why her parents didn’t make the call and why they were nowhere to be found. He brushed it off, thinking maybe it wasn’t as important to them or that they didn’t listen to her when she told them, and she’d taken the liberty to dial 9-1-1 herself. 

It didn’t matter because the rest of Truck had raised the ladder as he tried to calm the girl. He picked her up and attempted to soother her by talking her through what was happening. “Hey now, don’t cry. Ya see my brother up there?” he said pointing to Daryl as he began his ascent up the ladder, “He’s gonna bring down Muffins, okay?”

That was enough to stop her crying as she, and what looked like the whole block came out to watch his hot ass boyfriend climb the ladder. As fast as he went up, Daryl was climbing back down, a brown fur ball tucked securely under one arm. The package was handed off from a hysterical Daryl to an equally hysterical Glenn who rushed it over to the little girl.

It wasn’t until the probie gave the girl the cat that he realized it was a goddamn stuffed animal! And it wasn’t even a cat, it was some sort of marsupial looking thing with a long wiry tail and protruding eyes. It looked more like a rat or maybe a Chihuahua. 

“What’s going on out here?” a man called from the house they were parked in front of. 

Rick put the girl down when she started to wiggle. She ran towards her father squealing and waving around her little friend. “Daddy, look! They rescued Muffins!” 

The father started to flush with humiliation as he tried to explain what had happened, “I am so sorry to waste your time. She said Muffins climbed a tree and we needed to call the firemen, but I thought she had just lost him.”

“It’s fine, we’ve had worse calls today, believe it or not,” Glenn replied.

The little girl thanked them and the father profusely apologized for a good five minutes before they headed back to the station. Rick couldn’t stop giving Daryl humorous grins, but his boyfriend was too busy shaking off the teasing that was unfairly aimed at him for rescuing a stuffed pet to return them.

And the teasing only got worse when they returned to the house. When Merle heard what happened, he damn near pissed himself from laughing so hard. “That gives new meanin’ ta the phrase stuffed pussy,” he squawked. Not his best work.

“Fuck off, Merle. She was just a kid and she lost her cat,” Daryl huffed as he flopped down on the couch to watch a baseball game with Shane.

“Her brother threw it up in the tree and her parents thought she was lying,” Glenn said.

“Except it wasn’t a cat,” Rick chuckled. That earned him a glare from Daryl, but it was one of those sexy smoldering ones that had him wanted to take him right there in front of everyone.

“What the hell was it then?” Shane asked, quirking a brow at Daryl.

“Think it was a stuffed Chihuahua or something. It had these big, bulging eyes,” Rick answered for him.

“Never heard of anyone climbing a tree to rescue a stuffed dog before,” T-Dog chimed in. 

“She didn’t know any better ya shitheads!” Daryl scoffed as he stood up to storm out of the room.

The joking went on for a while as they all discussed their own animal rescues, but it was decided that Daryl’s was the best. Rick’s phone buzzed in his pocket a little while later with an incoming text from {Darlin’} as it still read in the id.

_[Daryl]: Y didn’t u have my back, Asshole?_

[Rick]: Oh, come on, Darlin’, they r only teasing.

_[Daryl]: It ain’t funny. She was 6_

[Rick]: For the record, I though it was pretty cute

Maybe Daryl smiled at that because his secret boyfriend just called him cute, but he wasn’t going to admit to that.

_[Daryl]: Our job ain’t cute Rick, it’s dangerous, coulda fallen off the damn rig_

[Rick]: Ok, let me clarify, I thought U were cute.

_[Daryl]: I hate u_

Rick didn’t believe that for a second. He smiled to himself and slipped his phone back into his pocket, but not before locking eyes with a knowing Aaron and then an equally knowing Michonne. 

The now infamous ‘cat’ call was the highlight of their shift. They had a two-car accident around midnight, but there were no serious injuries. The rest of the night was quiet, almost too quiet. Rick had a feeling something would be coming their way soon. The arsonist hadn’t struck in several weeks, and that made him more anxious with each passing day.

He could’ve been on fucking vacation. Did arsonists take vacations? And Phillip had been a weird kind of nice to him since he kissed Daryl, which was starting to freak him out even more so than when the man was being an ass hat, but he’d take the peace and quiet while they had it.

*****

The next morning, Rick fell into his usual routine. He went home after shift change, made him some breakfast, and waited for Daryl to text him. He didn’t have to wait long for a ping to come through indicating a message. And it was exactly what he was expecting.

_[Daryl]: What r u wearing?_

[Rick]: Nothing but my socks, Darlin’

Rick typed as he bit into lip, the anticipation already causing his cock to throb. He was lying in bed naked and he’d lied about the socks, not that Daryl would care.

 _[Daryl]: That’s more than me_

They had both gotten better at texting with their phones as they jacked themselves off, and Rick was thankful for that as he took his growing cock in his hand, running fingers down to the base then back up nice and slow.

[Rick]: U hard baby?

_[Daryl]: Dammit Asshole! Told u 2 stop that!_

[Rick]: is that a yes?

Daryl couldn’t help but smile because it was. He was already working himself up a good rhythm as he thought about how it felt to have Rick’s hand on him, how his cock felt in his hot, wet mouth when he had those lips closed tight around him, his fingers carding through short curls.

[Rick]: I’mma take that lack of reply as yes b/c I think ur touching urself as u think of me

_[Daryl]: Aren’t u?_

[Rick]: lol yeah, cept I’m thinking about u

Rick’s thumb moved over the keys as his chest began to heave, his arousal building as he too thought of his lover’s hands on him, of their bodies pressed together, his own sliding along Daryl’s skin. He let go of his shaft to run his hand up his chest, over the hair there, and almost lost his erection as he had a moment of panic.

Daryl wasn’t nearly as hairy as he was and was also used to a softer, less hairy version of the species. Rick had to wonder if he should shave himself before they did anything else together. Would Daryl appreciate that? That was a thing, right, men waxing and shaving their chests? 

Shit! Did he have to shave his pubes too? It was a jungle down there, he realized as he trailed his hand back down to his balls to give them a gentle squeeze before working on his cock one again. Daryl had already been to the jungle, seen it up close and personal, and he himself didn’t mind Daryl’s hair. Of course, he wasn’t a hairy beast like Rick was, but maybe he was overthinking it.

Thoughts of Daryl’s blue eyes helped centered him as he continued to rub his member in increasingly hurried strokes, little sexts passing back and forth between them with less and less detail as their brains were overtaken with a primal lust.

[Rick]: Gonna cum 4 u, u gonna cum 4 me?

_[Daryl]: Gonna send me a pic?_

Daryl was surprised a dick pic could get him hot, but when he opened the file Rick sent to find a masculine hand curled around a softening cock, the come Rick had spilt glistening on his stomach, he came with a garbled moan, azure eyes bursting through his mind as he milked himself dry.

He sent Rick a picture back before cleaning himself up and going on with the rest of his day. He didn’t want to push Rick, but he was starting to crave more than just dirty pictures and jacking himself off. But how could he tell him that? Maybe he should ask his gay gurus. He was usually a private man, but his blue balls were starting to make him a bit desperate.

*****

Phillip was a tall man. He didn’t blend into a crowd very well, nor did he go unnoticed very often. But he did his best to stick to the shadows as he slinked by everyone’s equipment on his way over to the firetruck. 

His shift had just ended and he knew Prison shift was in their daily meeting with Merle, but he still gave a quick look around to make sure the coast was clear before reaching into the rig for Rick’s SCBA gear. He took the razor blade in his hand and made a long cut into the tubing that carried the air into the mask.

“Hey Phil,” Glenn said slapping him on the back as he rushed by, late for the meeting. 

Phillip was somehow able to keep from jumping out of his own skin at that, but the blade slipped and cut right into his thumb. He hissed and pulled it away to shove in his mouth as the gash began to bleed profusely. He _did_ jump when the alarm sounded and rushed out the door before anyone else could notice he hadn’t left yet, hoping Glenn had been in too much of a hurry to wonder what he’d been doing.

The truck was halfway out the hanger door when Daryl noticed Phillip’s car peeling out of the parking lot. “Phillip left late.”

“Yeah, he was messing with the rig when I came in,” Glenn shrugged. "The SCBA's, I think."

“Shit! I didn’t get a chance to change out my fittings,” Daryl said, cursing his now-useless equipment as they barreled through a red light on the way to an apartment fire.

“You can take mine,” Rick said, tossing him wink. “I’ll requisition the probie’s.” 

“Awe come on, Rick! That’s not fair,” Glenn pouted.

“Maybe you can sweet talk Tara into swapping out,” he snickered. Glenn was on the bottom of the totem pole and no one saw that happening.

“Don’t worry, Probie. We got an extra in the back somewhere. You'll jus' have ta dig it out,” Shane hollered as they pulled into the complex and around to the burning building. It was easy to spot; the multiunit fire was spitting out thick, black smoke high into the sky and flames were shooting out from the roof. “Ladders up, boys! It’s gonna be a doozy!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG! What is gonna happen next? 
> 
> So they're moving into 'August' and it's probably going to be a loooong month. It might take like ten chapters to get through, maybe more idek, we'll see. But it should be fun. Please tell me when it stops being fun because we still got a long ass way to go. I think this bastard might be like 50 chapters. What have I done?
> 
> *Also, I have no idea if cutting the tubing would work to sabotage SCBA gear, but we're just gonna go with it because google wasn't helpful when I searched 'how to kill a firefighter.' :/


	30. 371

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Daryl dies.

Daryl died.

Well, that’s what they told him when he came to, that his heart missed a few beats. But for all intents and purposes, he died. He didn’t remember it, no bright tunnels or apparitions wanting him to take their hand and go into the light. So maybe he didn’t die.

***

The call was a nasty one, but they knew that before they even pulled up to the apartment complex; Maggie did say two-alarm fire. Shane parked as close to the building as he could and they all jumped to it, Rick tossing Daryl his SCBA mask before taking Glenn’s like they had discussed on the ride over.

Glenn had climbed in the back scrounging around for the spare so he could join them. He wasn’t quick enough though, T-dog ended up going in with the three other senior firemen and he was stuck setting up hoses while Shane, Rick, and Daryl worked rescue without him.

It was late enough in the morning that a lot of people had already left for work or had been awake and were able to make it to safety before they arrived on scene. But they had to do a sweep anyway, just to make sure. The matter became more pressing when a frantic mother said she couldn’t find her eight year-old son.

The fire was on the brink of raging out of control so they decided to go up as high as they could and work their way back down before it got out of hand on the upper levels. Most of the flames were shooting out of the top windows and sections of the building, and there was a good chance they could get in and get out of the lower units before the fire spread downward.

The fourth floor was already a ‘no-go’ so they stopped at the third floor. Daryl’s heart was pounding with a mix of adrenaline and excursion from the trek, which was unusual, but he shook it off. T-Dog and Shane had entry tools and broke down the door of the apartment where the missing kid lived. They swept it fast but didn’t locate the child.

“We gotta go unit by unit,” T-Dog said as they four men worked their way back out.

That was the about the time Daryl started to get a little lightheaded. He shook it off, blaming it on the heat mostly. The Georgia humidity didn’t do much to help matters, but the fire was burning at well over a thousand degrees.

“Yeah, better safe than sorry. Don’t wanna lose anyone we could’ve saved,” Rick said. Their house had suffered enough loss and heartache the past year; he didn’t think it would be good for any of them if they continued to add to the body count.

“You and Daryl take the evens, me and T’ll take the odds,” Shane said as they started towards the other units on the floor.

T gave Rick his axe when they split off and Daryl watched as he struck the first door a few times before kicking it in. They crept low through the living room, the air dark with smoke, and came to the kitchen that was already up in flames.

That was when the short of breath kicked in. He figured it was because of the anxiety of coming face to face with yet another kitchen fire. He’d seen enough for one year, but it was part of the job and he had to shake off the thought of the arsonist upping his game so drastically.

For all he knew, faulty wiring was the culprit judging by the age of the building.

It wasn’t until they moved into the bedroom of the next unit that his vision started to blur around the edges. At first he thought it was due to the smoke because visibility was next to nil. But when they finished their sweep and got back outside to where the smoke was less dense, things didn’t clear up. That’s when he knew he had a problem.

“You okay back there, Darlin’?” Rick asked. Leave it to him to notice. “Ya ain’t bitchin’ at me like usual,” he chuckled, his voice muffled by the radio.

“Shuddup…an’ le’s get this over with,” he managed to pant out. That was the point he should’ve called it, but he was a stubborn jackass and told himself to keep going.

“Maybe you should add some cardio to that weigh lifting routine you got goin’ on.”

Daryl wanted to retort something about Rick knowing damn well he did cardio since he watched him while he did it, but they were on the radio and he didn’t feel like giving the house anymore ammo against them than they already had. That, and he didn’t think he had the energy. His limbs were starting to feel heavy and every step was harder to make as they pushed down the hall to the next unit.

“Ya wanna do the honors?” Rick asked.

“Nah, go ahead,” he replied. Truth be told, he probably wouldn’t have been able to knock down a house made of straw at that point.

They pushed into another unit, but it was engulfed in flames. It was too far gone and they both knew that if anyone was inside, they were long since gone. Going in was not only dangerous, but could’ve cost them the life of someone they could’ve saved. They had no choice but to move on to the next unit.

T-Dog and Shane were about to head into the unit across the hall and both doors were kicked in almost simultaneously. Shane said something Daryl wasn’t focused enough to hear as he followed Rick inside the smoldering and smoky apartment. The flames were just starting to take hold on the walls and ceiling, but they had time to do a thorough sweep.

“Two bedrooms, you take left, I’ll go right,” Rick said.

Daryl nodded, too out of breath to even speak. Something was wrong, either with him or his equipment, but he knew Rick took better care of his gear than he did. Was he having a panic attack? Some sort of flashback compliments of the arsonist and the kitchen they had seen blazing in the first apartment?

He knew he was putting himself and maybe even Rick in danger by not tapping out, but how could he give up on searching for a little kid? The boy was a little older than he was when he got trapped in the fire that claimed his mother. That was one of the scariest things he’d ever been through, and he wanted to rescue the kid just like the firefighters rescued him nearly thirty years ago, no matter what the cost to himself.

But it was all too much. He couldn’t breath, his lungs were stinging, and his temples began to throb. His eyes wouldn’t focus and his dizzying head got the better of him when he rounded the corner of the bed too fast on his way to check the closet. Down he went, body collapsing under his weight at that of his added gear, but he was able to use the last of the oxygen in his lungs to yell for help.

“RICK!?” was the extent of his message.

He passed out before he even hit the floor, his body so deprived of oxygen that it began to shut itself down. He’d pushed himself forward when he knew he shouldn’t have, and all that made him was a liability.

Rick’s first thought was that he found the kid and needed help getting him out, but when Daryl didn’t answer him when he asked, followed shortly after by the activation of Daryl’s emergency alarm from lack of movement, he started to panic. He spun around and bolted for the other bedroom.

Or he would have if the goddamn ceiling hadn’t collapsed in on them. The fire had compromised the integrity of the room and it gave way above him trapping him in the second bedroom and Daryl across the hall.

“DARYL?” he yelled through his radio. That alerted everyone to the situation. “The fuckin’ roof collapsed!”

T-Dog and Shane abandoned their unit in an instant and headed for the one Rick and Daryl were in. _“What’s going on?”_ Shane radioed.

“Ceiling caved in on us,” Rick hollered. “Can ya’ll see Daryl? Is he…shit, is he under there?”

Rick knew he couldn’t get out using the door, but he had to do something, had to get to Daryl. His heart was thudding a wild cadence as worst case scenarios ran like a stampede through his head. They were both sitting ducks that were about to be roasted if he didn’t think of something fast.

He took the axe and started hacking away into the wall of the closest, cutting through the drywall like butter. The only problem was he wasn’t sure if the other bedroom was compromised or if was just the section between the doors. But he’d soon find out.

 _“Jus’ hold on, me and T are on our way,”_ Shane said, leading T-dog into the other apartment. There was a mountain of debris aflame in the hallway, and they didn’t have anything to put it out with. _“We need a hose up here in unit 371. Also need some excavation equipment and some fuckin’ backup!”_

 _“Is he buried, Rick?”_ T asked.

“Don’t know, we took different rooms,” Rick huffed out in between chops. He got through one side rather quickly and started in on the other. “Jus’ yelled for help…Daryl? Ya gotta say somethin’, if you can hear me. Make a damn sound or something,” Rick pleaded.

When he broke through the other side, he poked his head through the wall and saw Daryl’s legs near the edge of the bed. His relief was short-lived. “Got eyes on ‘im. He’s down! Ain’t moving, but he ain’t buried.”

 _”Thank god,”_ T-Dog said.

 _“Need a fix on your location for the ladders,”_ Morgan radioed.

“I think I can get through back here into the other bedroom, but I’m gonna have to take out a stud,” Rick said. He took a breath and hacked through it, knowing that the ceiling was now even more compromised, but he had to get to Daryl any way he could.

It was going to be a tight squeeze even after removing the stud, but he forced his way into the closet and rushed over to Daryl as fast as he could. There was no way to check his pulse through the gear but he didn’t appear to be breathing. He gave him a gentle shake, “Daryl, ya still with me?”

His heart sank when he got no response.

 _“We got a ladder coming up, but we don’t know what window,”_ Morgan repeated. _“Also got a hose on the way too. Is he trapped?”_

By that point, Shane was almost through the wall in the bathroom, having ran in there after hearing Rick’s plan to go through the wall. It took him a little longer to get through the tiles.

“Shit, I don’t think he’s breathing,” Rick said as Shane busted through the wall and immediately went to the window to knock it out. Once the ladder team knew what window to go to, they moved into position while Shane went over to help move Daryl.

The ceiling was starting to sag above them and Rick knew they had to move him soon or they’d risk getting buried under burning rubble. They got him to the window where Morgan was waiting to carry him down.

Rick and Shane hoisted him over the window sill into Morgan’s arms so he could be taken down, but as soon as they were clear of the window, Rick yanked Daryl’s mask off to allow some fresh oxygen to reach him.

After Morgan and Daryl were down, Rick followed. Shane went back out through the wall so he and T-Dog could continue on to other units. They were forced to abandon the search when the ceiling in the next unit gave way. The building was just too compromised.

“We gotta get out. It’s getting too dicey in here,” he told T-Dog.

“I’m with ya,” T agreed.

 _“Found the boy!”_ Glenn radioed from the bottom floor he and Tara had been searching. _“He was hiding in the closest of a friend’s room._

“Alright, we’re coming down,” Shane announced. They were all thankful the boy was safe and sound. If they were lucky, everyone else would be safe and accounted for.

Elsewhere on the ground, Michonne had started CPR on Daryl and had him breathing again before Rick was even off the ladder.

“What the hell happened?” Morgan chided.

“He called for help and that was it. I…I don’t know,” Rick replied, as they made their way over to where Daryl was being attended to by Michonne and Eric. “Maybe he didn’t get a good seal? He was usin’ my mask.”

“Where is it?” the older man asked.

Rick had it around his arm on the climb down and turned it over to Morgan before dropping to his knees beside Daryl.

Daryl had just regained consciousness, his head feeling like a herd of ungraceful of elephants were waltzing in it as he sucked air into his lungs. He started coughing and thrashing about as he tried to sit up, but Rick grabbed ahold of one arm and Eric the other to keep him down.

“Daryl, listen ta me, ya gotta be still, okay baby? I found ya unconscious so ya gotta take it easy for a minute. Michonne and Eric need to look you over okay?” Rick soothed.

Daryl didn’t remember what happened exactly only that he couldn’t breathe before everything faded out. He thought he might’ve over exerted himself, but he was in great shape. “What happened?” he rasped, his voice hoarse and his throat bone dry.

“Don’t know Darlin’, ya yelled for help and I found ya layin’ down on the job,” Rick tried to laugh, but it was forced and shaky, just like his hands. He reached a blind one for Daryl’s and interlaced their fingers as Michonne put an oxygen tube under his nose.

“We gotta take you to the hospital. Ya might have a touch of smoke inhalation, but I think after passing out, you need a full work up,” Michonne said.

Daryl would’ve liked to protest, but he knew the determined sets of eyes on him weren’t worth the hassle. And he was just too tired. They put him onto a gurney and rolled him towards the ambulance, Rick clinging to his hand the whole time.

“ ‘M jus’ gonna get back to work since ya decided to take the day off,” Rick chuckled again with a little more mirth.

“Shuddup, Asshole. I work hard enough,” Daryl said, but it soon turned into a coughing fit as he was lifted into the rig.

“Ya gotta let go, Rick,” Michonne said, flashing him a sympathetic look before looking pointedly at their joined hands.

He nodded to her then gave Daryl’s a gentle squeeze. He wanted to jump in and kiss him or ride to the hospital with him, but he still had a job to do and Daryl would’ve probably kicked his ass. He’d kick himself later for not doing the kissing part. His boyfriend almost died.

“We’ll all be right behind ya, okay?” Rick said, looking into blue eyes that looked a little more vulnerable than he’d ever seen them before.

“Bes’ bring somethin’ to break me out with. I ain’t eatin’ anymore of their damn Jello,” Daryl said, rolling his eyes before relaxing back against the gurney.

Rick smiled at that. He knew he was going to be okay, but he hoped nothing was seriously wrong that caused him to black out and stop breathing.

“Rick? I think I found the problem,” Morgan hollered, waving him over to the truck once the ambulance pulled away. He hopped over a few lines of hoses on his way. The ladders on both houses’ trucks were raised and the bottom levels were being soaked to prevent the fire from spreading even more.

“The air line on this mask was shredded. It’s yours right?”

“What? How the hell is that possible? I checked it this morning with Glenn—” Rick froze, his conversation with the probie from earlier playing out in his head.

> _“Phillip left late.”_
> 
> _“Yeah, he was messing with the rig when I came in.”_

“Who the hell did this then?” Morgan asked, his brow furrowing as he looked back and forth between Rick and the damaged gear.

Rick’s pulse quickened and his chest started to heave, "That slimy sonofabitch tried to kill me!”

“Who?”

“Phillip fuckin’ Blake!” he thundered.

He almost couldn’t believe it. Would the man stoop so low as to try and off him? Was he the…no, he couldn’t be, could he? The arsonist was a sociopath. But. Phillip did kind of fit the profile. He had knowledge of firefighting procedure, he was off on every day they got an arson call, and he even had motive to hate him: Daryl.

“Phillip?” Morgan questioned.

“I gotta call Merle,” Rick said, excusing himself. He walked around to the far side of the engine and doubled over, resting his hands on his knees as he tried to flush out some of the adrenaline coursing through him and regulate his breathing.

When he was able to stand up, he went to the cab of the truck and dug around in the rig for one of the phones they kept for emergencies to call Merle. “Are ya on your way to the hospital?” Rick asked, forgoing salutations when the Captain answered.

 _“On my way,”_ Merle bit out. Rick could tell his jaw was clenched in worry, or possibly anger. _“What the fuck happened? I trust ya ta have his back and he almost fuckin’ dies?”_

“Someone sabotaged my SCBA. He didn’t get his seals changed out and he took mine while I took Glenn’s,” Rick tried to explain. He heard tires squealing but he wasn’t sure if Merle was peeling out or stopping.

_“Sabotaged? What the fuck do ya mean?”_

“I mean, when me and Morgan checked over his equipment, _my_ equipment, the damn air line was shredded to shit. And this morning Glenn told us he saw Phillip messing with the gear while we were all in the meeting.”

_“Phillip?”_

“I know it’s hard to believe, but one of our own brothers tired to fuckin’ kill me, Merle!” Rick spat, his breath drawing ragged the more he thought about it. That was his mask, _he_ was the one that was supposed to be rushed to the hospital. Or worse.

He was the one who was supposed to lose an arm or a leg, but now Daryl was one more name added to the list of victims that he was responsible for. His stomach turned at the thought, bile bubbling up his trachea.

“Morgan’s talking to one of the officers and Arson is on scene, but if Phillip’s our guy, he wouldn’t have had enough time to set this one,” he managed to continue after swallowing down the bitter acid of fury rising in the back of his throat.

When Rick stopped talking, he heard the tires screeching again and the call cutting off.

“Hello? Merle? Are ya there?”

Rick had a feeling he was going after Phillip. And as much as he wanted to join him, there was still a burning building behind him.

“Hey, there you are,” Glenn said as he rounded the engine. “Morgan just told me what happened. Do you want to talk about it?”

Whatever the look on Rick’s face said must’ve been pretty drastic because the younger man held up his hands in placation and approached him with caution.

“Daryl’s gonna be alright, so that’s good. And Internal Affairs already has the cops heading over to question Phillip. They collected Daryl’s…your gear and need to ask us some questions when we finish, but, uh, I just wanted to check on you.”

“ ‘M fine, le’s get back to work,” Rick said, running his hand through his hair. He took a deep breath, the familiar smell of smoke filling his nose, and pushed himself away from the rig.

He was not fine, but their job wasn't done. And at the very least, it gave him something to do other than confiscate a car and run Phillip down with it because at that point, he didn’t trust himself to do anything else.


	31. On the Lam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things don't go the way Phillip hoped; Rick and Daryl make a date; Rick consults one of his gay gurus and gets schooled.

Phillip had pulled into of his driveway seven minutes after pulling out of the station. He had wasted no time packing the bare essentials in case he had to make a quick getaway: a few changes of clothes, some toiletries, his emergency stash of money, and his passport. Other than that, he had no plan if his own had been uncovered.

He’d never been on the lam before, but he’d give it a go if he had to. He was confident he wouldn’t have to.

He made his way downstairs and switched on his police scanner, tuning into the AFD frequency. If his calculations were correct, Rick would be running out of air soon and things were about to get a lot more interesting. It was about time that sniveling imbecile was put in his place, and if he happened to suffocate, even better.

A nagging voice kept telling him that Glenn saw him, saw what he did, but he pushed that down. It was just a bad air hose; Rick really should check his equipment more often. If it came down to it, it’d be the word of a probie against his, and he had no doubts that he could charm his way out of it.

His thumb was throbbing from the cut, so he cranked up the sound on the scanner and went into the bathroom to clean out the wound. The radio crackled to life as he exited, _“Code Zero-firefighter down.”_

A wicked grin split his face as he walked over to the wall opposite the scanner and yanked a dart out of the drywall. Moving several paces away, he lined up a shot and let out a breath, but just as his fingers released the dart, Daryl’s name started echoing through the speakers.

The shot went wide, completely missing the eight by ten picture of Rick he had taped up that was already riddled with holes. His heart rate sped up as he realized once more just how right he had been about Rick. He knew the bastard was going to get Daryl killed. Now he had proof!

He stormed over to the scanner and leaned over it, hanging onto every detail as his nails dug into the wooden table. Sure enough, it was Daryl they were bringing down the ladder and Daryl the EMT’s were calling ahead for. His veins turned to ice when his own name started popping up along with Internal Affairs and attempted murder suspect.

_This is Grimes’s fault!_

He went back to the wall and ripped off Rick’s picture, shredding it into a million pieces as he let out a primitive growl. Then he ran upstairs to the bedroom to grab his bag, but before he left, he made sure to stuff in a few of the pictures of Daryl he had printed out from the flash drive he’d snagged from Merle’s office.

Then he was out the door.

*****

Merle’s tires screeched to a halt in Phillip’s driveway. The fucker’s car wasn’t there, but he got out anyway, slamming the door closed behind him. Just as he was contemplating busting in the front door or breaking out a window, a patrol car pulled up to the curb.

He turned around and tramped across the sun-bleached grass to ‘greet’ them, “Ya’ll here ta haul that murderous sonuvabitch in?”

“Are you friends with Phillip Blake?” one of the policemen replied, moving his hand to his gun.

“Fuck no, I’m his boss and the man whose brother he just put in the damn hospital,” he said.

“Do you know where he is?”

“If I did, do ya think I’d be waiting for him ta come around before I beat his face in? He’s lucky ya’ll showed up ‘fore he did. But as one first responder to another, ya’ll think ya can back off till I get a chance to send ‘im my regards?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but that ain’t allowed,” the other officer replied.

“Yeah, I guess not,” Merle deflated. After they asked him a few questions about Phillip, he got back in his truck and headed to the scene of the fire. He’d talked to Michonne after they got Daryl checked in at the hospital and wanted to join them, but since his brother was stable, there were things he had things to do first. Mainly meet with Arson and IA.

*****

“Come on, Milton, I just need a few things and I’ll leave ya alone, won’t even tell ‘em you helped me. But I’m desperate here,” Phillip pleaded as he sat in his car under a secluded overpass.

_“I just don’t feel comfortable with this. Merle already called looking for you and—”_

“We’ve known each other a long time, Milton, been through a lot of shit. You’re my brother, we’ve saved each other’s lives and I just need a little money to tie me over ‘til I get everything straightened out. I done told ya it’s just a misunderstanding.”

 _“Do you know it was Daryl and not Rick that got hurt? What happened to your plan?”_ Milton challenged.

“Don’t start with me Milton, ‘m really not in the mood!”

There was a brief moment of silence before Milton sighed, _“How much do you need?”_

“A couple grand, an’ make sure ta get a few burner phones. I’m going to see Daryl, try to straighten everything out, but if ya don’t hear from me in two hours, meet me at the park by the prison.”

_“Is that really such a goo—”_

Phillip hung up the phone before Milton could finish. It was a short trip to the hospital; if he were lucky, he could make it before too many people arrived. He just needed to see Daryl, talk to him, and convince him that he only had his best interest at heart. That’s all he’d been trying to do.

Milton sent him a text with Daryl’s room number but when he peeked around the corner of the hallway, Michonne was camped out in front of the door. He snuck into a nearby linen closet and grabbed a pair of scrubs, slipping them on as he contemplated the best way to go about getting passed her.

He cracked the door open to go back out and his heart stopped when he saw Rick jogging by. He’d have to think up a better plan for him later. After a minute, he realized he hadn’t been seen and slipped out of the closet. When he peeked back around the corner, Michonne was gone, but he had a feeling Rick was now in the room with Daryl.

The bastard was worse than a damn stalker. Phillip thought he should’ve figured out long ago that Daryl wasn’t interested in him and fuck off. But the asshole couldn’t even do that right.

He crept down the hall and peered in the small window. Just like he thought, Rick was inside standing beside Daryl’s bed. The wounded man was shirtless, his chiseled chest all but glistening under the florescent lights.

His mouth salivated at the sight. He wanted to run his tongue over those erect nipples, wanted to suck the little pebbled flesh into his mouth as thick fingers raked through his hair, wanted Daryl’s back arching off the bed as he penetrated him, want to be the one who put that smile on his face.

Daryl was going to be his. He just needed to work a little harder to make sure that happened.

***

On the other side of the door, Rick had just pulled out the lime jello he’d stopped at the store to get. After they discovered the cause of Daryl passing out and all his tests came back clean, they decided to hold him for observation for several hours.

“Christ, Asshole! Told ya I didn’t want any damn jello. And if I did, they have a stash in the nurses’ lounge,” Daryl scowled, rolling his eyes as Rick pulled off the foil top.

“Oh c’mon, Darlin’. Jus’ wanted to do somethin’ nice for ya. You said you didn’t like hospital jello, so I brought ya the good kind,” Rick replied, reaching for the spoon on the table. “Michonne said ya liked the green kind.”

“I do, but I ain’t eatin’ that,” Daryl challenged.

Rick dug the spoon in the jello and held it up to Daryl’s lips, “Just a bite?”

Daryl shook his head, glowering at Rick who only smiled wider back at him. Rick moved the spoon to his own mouth and sucked the jello off the spoon. “Mmm, ‘s good,” he said, getting another spoonful.

This time he made airplane noises with his mouth as he swirled the spoon in the air. “Here comes the plane! Open up the hanger doors!” That got Daryl laughing which led to Rick laughing which then led to Rick’s unsteady hand spilling jello on Daryl’s chest.

“Dammit, Rick! I said I didn’t want any,” Daryl admonished, his tone negated by his inability to stop laughing.

Rick didn’t give much thought to grabbing a tissue, opting instead to bend over Daryl and slurp the spilled green gelatin off his chest. He was spurred on by the sharp intake of breath Daryl inhaled when he lightly sucked on his skin, lingering as he mouthed along the soft peach fuzz.

“ ‘S’at good?” Daryl teased, biting at his lower lip.

“Real good,” Rick mumbled onto his exposed skin, kissing a trail up his neck on his way to capture his lips.

The sweet and citrus flavor on his tongue had Daryl conceding with a moan that the jello was in fact good. But that could’ve just been Rick. He pulled Rick closer to him, wanting to feel his weight on top of him, but their kiss was cut short when they heard a loud thud in the hallway and turned their heads.

“What was that?” Daryl asked, relinquishing the hold he had on Rick’s neck.

“I don’t know…thought I saw something,” Rick said as he moved around the bed and went to the door. He looked out the small window, but the hallway was empty from what he could see of it.

“It’s a hospital, there’s a lot to see.”

“Yeah, but why the hell are there windows in the doors? People could be spyin’ on ya,” Rick said. “Ya don’t think it was Merle do ya?”

“Nah, he woulda punched you in the face,” Daryl smirked.

“Ha. Ha. But speakin’ of, I should probably head back to work. He said I only had as long as it took to apologize for givin’ ya my sabotaged gear,” he said, looking away.

Daryl waited for a moment, but when Rick wouldn’t look at him, he took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Rick, don’t. It ain’t on you. You couldn’t have known that prick was gonna do somethin’ like this. Hell, I’ve known ‘im for years and I didn’t know.”

Rick still won’t make eye contact, but he squeezed back. He was too busy thinking about all the people he let down. He was supposed to save people, help people, but it seemed like everyone he cared about kept getting taken from him, kept getting hurt. How could he not think it was on him?

“He’s right, y’know. I can’t keep anyone safe,” Rick admitted after a hefty silence.

“You’re right, ya can’t, but I don’t need anyone to keep me safe,” Daryl countered. “And even if I did, I already know you’re gonna be there to have my back…ya saved me today.”

Rick had no choice but to look at him after that, into eyes that kept getting warmer every time he looked at them. And he wanted to say, ‘You saved me too,’ but he couldn’t get them past the lump in his throat because that conversation was just to heavy to have in five minutes.

It was just as well, Merle busted through the door soon after, Rick jumping off the bed expecting some sort of punch to the face, but Merle rushed to hug Daryl to him for a moment then told him to get back to work. He couldn’t argue with his boss, so off he went.

*****

Everyone asked him how Daryl was when he returned to the house, and he was grateful he had good news to give. He only had a touch of smoke inhalation and was asymptomatic. They were relieved to say the least, which left the house in a better mood than it was before he arrived.

But then the rumors of Phillip being the arsonist started to pick up steam throughout the day. The dickbag had experience with firefighting procedure, and as far as the police knew, no alibis for the arsons. They’d need to question him about that, but for the moment, he was simply labeled a person of interest in an investigation.

They weren’t even calling it an attempted murder investigation, but Shane found out from one of his cop buddies that they got a warrant to search his house and found a police scanner, the shredded picture of Rick that had been on the wall, and perhaps most disturbing of all: a goddamn shrine to Daryl in his bedroom.

The guy was clearly a sociopath, but Rick wasn’t sure what to think. Sabotage yes—the slit hose sounded like something a stalker would do to the competition—but would he really put Daryl and the rest of the house, their brothers and sisters, at risk to get at Rick?

Just when he was about to yank his hair out thinking about that asshat, his phone dinged.

_[Daryl]: Merle won’t leave and I’m bored. Come back n suck my cock. :p_

Rick busted out laughing and everyone in earshot turned to look at him, his cheeks heating up as he apologized.

[Rick]: How am I gonna do that if Merle won’t leave?

_[Daryl]: Creatively?_

Rick gave a quick look around as he tried to keep his face as stoic as possible. His pants were starting to tent and he had to either excuse himself or stop all the dirty thoughts of Daryl from swirling around in his head.

[Rick]: Would u stop? I’m at work here n ur about 2 make things a lot more complicated 4 me

_[Daryl]: Guess I could ask one of the nurses who won’t stop bringing me damn jello to give me a sponge bath…_

Rick wasn’t sure if Daryl was bluffing or trying to make him jealous. He knew he was being insecure, but he figured that was allowed since it was pretty foreign territory he was traversing. Because what if Daryl suddenly decided that he couldn’t do all the gay ‘stuff’ with him?

[Rick]: go ahead

_[Daryl]: Nah, none of them have lips as juice as urs_

Okay, that helped.

[Rick]: Did they give u drugs or something?

_[Daryl]: I had a near death experience Asshole! I need to get laid!_

[Rick]: Are ya asking or telling?

_[Daryl]: Requesting?_

[Rick]: To sleep with a nurse?

_[Daryl]: No Asshole! U!_

Rick was momentarily speechless—or textless—at that. He knew things were moving in that direction, but that was as straightforward as it got.

[Rick]: Request granted?

_[Daryl]: Tomorrow? What about ur kid?_

Carl was at the age where he’d prefer to be anywhere but home. The two of them had been getting on each other’s nerves since a week after school got out, so he knew Carl would be happy to sleep over at a friend’s house.

[Rick]: Tomorrow. My place or…

_[Daryl]: yeah like 6ish_

[Rick]: It’s a date!

He slipped his phone in his pocket and got up from the chair he’d been lounging in to go find his gay gurus as he tried not to think about how desperate that last text sounded.

Things were about to get bumped up a notch, and while he had been doing things like research and experimenting with fingering himself, he needed a little more encouragement, a homo pep talk if that were a thing, because there was only so much the internet could teach you.

Aaron was in a corner talking on the phone, so he went to find Eric who was downstairs repacking the ambulance. “Hey Eric, do ya got a minute?”

“Sure, Rick? What’s up?” he smiled, but Rick wasn’t willing to have that kind of conversation out in the open. Michonne was in Merle’s office and Sasha was upstairs, but Shane and T-Dog were fiddling around with the Truck on the other side of the hanger.

“Ya mind if we go outside?”

Eric must’ve picked up on his anxiety because he nodded and headed for the door. Rick followed and they made their way into the parking lot. “Advice?” the redhead guessed when they stopped to face each other.

“Yeah…I was, uh, well things are about ta…we’re gonna be movin’ things ‘forward’ and I was jus’ wondering how do ya...decide who’s the man and who’s the ‘woman?’ ” Rick stuttered and fidgeted but was relieved he managed to spit the words out.

Eric sighed, “Rick, there is no woman.”

“Well, I know, but—”

“First of all, you’re both men, and an asshole is not a vagina. You are thinking in terms of the heterosexual normality you were raised in, and that’s not how gay sex usually works. You can’t just project the concept of male and female gender roles onto gay people, or anyone really. It doesn’t work that way because everyone is different.”

“You’re right, I get that,” Rick agreed. Carl had made a similar argument when they were discussing a classmate before, about trying to stuff people into neat boxes they don’t fit into.

“Also, the one giving is not ‘more of a man’ because he’s sticking a dick somewhere warm, so get that idea out of your head. That’s bullshit, backwards thinking, okay?”

“Okay...yeah.”

There was a moment of silence while Eric gathered his thoughts. “Now that we got that out of the way, it’s not really about the roles anyway, it’s about pleasure. There are plenty of dominant alpha males that enjoy receiving, or bottoming, and there are more submissive guys who like to top. It’s more of a rarity for gay men to stick to one or the other in the bedroom one hundred percent of the time. And truth be told, that’d be kinda boring.”

“So...how are we supposed ta figure out who does what then, toss a coin?”

“If you want to or rock, paper, scissors,” Eric chuckled. “My advice would be to try it both ways several times because it might take a little trial and error. You may find you prefer one over the other, or maybe both equally. Or maybe neither of you will like it and you’ll just stick to amazing blowjobs or something. It’s not all about anal. I know gay couples that hardly ever have it.”

Rick was a tad surprised at that; he thought it was a requirement, “Really?”

“Yes, really,” Eric grinned. “What I'm trying to say is that there’s no right way to be gay. Every relationship is different, and you’ll just have to decide what works for the two of you. That means exploring each other and getting to know what you like and what he likes…Does that help?”

“It does, but I’m still not sure how we should…‘do it.’ ”

“I can’t answer that for you, Rick. Fool around a little and see how you both feel when you get there. If you still don’t know, then blow each other and try again next time. No harm in taking things slow. Just remember to have fun. Also, lots of lube, prep, and safe sex! Do you have any questions about that? Positions? Lube brands?”

“No, no! I think I’ve got that covered, thanks,” Rick said as they turned and hurried back inside. Eric’s enthusiasm, while awkward, made him feel more confident about how things could go. He was still nervous as hell, but it’d been too fucking long, and at this point, they just needed to do it and get it over with before it became an albatross around their necks.


	32. Prepping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Daryl prepare for their dinner date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the lovely [MermaidSheenaz](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MermaidSheenaz/pseuds/MermaidSheenaz) for looking this over!

As soon as he received _the_ text, Daryl might’ve had a momentary mental freak-out. He played it off well…or maybe that was just Merle being dense because he kept up his pacing as he yapped on the phone to Chief Hershel about the state of things.

“Dammit, Merle can ya take that outside?” he grumbled as he pulled the blanket up over his chest. He didn’t know why he couldn’t put his shirt back on, but he had a feeling some of the nurses were lying about the necessity of it remaining off.

Merle shot him a glare but started for the door, yanking on the handle as he stormed out.

He was going to…him and Rick were going to _fuck_ probably, maybe, definitely. Shit, he hadn’t meant to be so direct, but goddammit his balls were nearly as blue as Rick’s eyes by that point, and he just needed something more than his hand and dick pics. He needed Rick’s actual dick. God, he was so fucking gay…or was it bi? Didn’t matter he just wanted Rick.

It was fine. Rick had never been with a guy before so he would have no basis for comparison, and the guy already had his dick in his mouth once. Sure they were a little bit drunk, but Rick hadn’t seemed repulsed by it or anything. And he wasn’t as weirded out by choking on Rick’s than he thought he’d be, not when he looked so fucking amazing when he came.

Those were good signs. Once he shut off his idiot brain from overthinking, he pulled out his phone and called Aaron. His gay fairy godparent answered all cheery as fuck and he was glad they weren’t doing this face to face.

_“Hey Daryl, how are you feeling?”_

“I’m fine, I was just…well I had a few questions that I was hoping you could help me with,” he said, his tone softer than he usually used on the phone, but even with loudmouth Merle out in the hall, he didn’t want to take any chances of being overheard.

_“Sure, what’s up?”_

“ ‘M pretty sure things are about to…shit, I wanna have gay sex with Rick. Tell me how to do it,” he blurted out. Jesus, he couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut today. Must’ve been the lack of oxygen, he probably went a little brain dead or something.

 _“O-k,”_ Aaron said with an airy chuckle. _“Can you be more specific? Like have you discussed topping and bottoming?”_

“Not exactly…like who does what? I mean I know, but like how do we, shit, this is a bad idea,” Daryl huffed. He thought about hanging up, but he needed to figure this out before tomorrow. He needed a crash course in gay even though he’d looked some things up online.

 _“It’s not a bad idea, you’re just feeling a little anxiety because it’s something new and different than what you’re used to. It’s perfectly normal. Okay, so how much do you know about prepping?”_ Aaron asked, his voice calm and steady which Daryl was grateful for.

“I, uh, looked some things up…”

_“Okay, well first you’re gonna want to warm each other up with some kissing and petting, y’know foreplay, which I think is self-explanatory.”_

“I know about that part,” Daryl snipped, his mind along with the rest of him a little impatient.

_“Well, then when you’re both comfortable, move on to prepping. Since neither of you have done anything like this before whoever bottoms is going to be really tight and will need to be stretched with fingers, either their own or the other person’s. Does this sound familiar?”_

He’d been fingering himself in the shower for weeks, but he wasn’t going to admit that, “Yeah.”

_“Make sure to use enough lube, and remember that there will be some resistance, but just relax. Communication is key, but depending on size, if you can squeeze in three fingers, you should be good to go.”_

And that’s when Daryl’s face began to burn. It was one thing to look up these things when he was home alone, but having someone else spell it out for him was a little more awkward than he would like. Okay, a lot more awkward.

“Lube, three fingers, communication. What else? Like who does the… _sticking?_ “

_“That’s something you two have to figure out on your own. There aren’t set rules or guidelines for this, so just do what feels right. Play around a little. Maybe finger each other and then decide who wants to try for something more. Did you get that link I sent on douching?”_

That was a question Daryl never thought he’d hear. “Yeah, I got it.” And that was an answer he never thought he’d give.

_“Great, good, uh...just read over that...Look, a lot of this, the sex and the prepping even, is going to be trial and error. You’ll have to find what works for you.”_

“What if...I don’t know, it‘s prolly gonna hurt, right?” he asked. Rick was a pain in his ass sometimes, but he didn’t strike Daryl as being into all that S and M bullshit. Of course, it was hard to tell what people were into these days; he could've been a goddamn furry for all Daryl knew.

_“Umm, no it really shouldn’t. Just take things slow, y’know. I mean initially, there might be some aching or stinging, but if there’s too much discomfort, try more lube or a different position or more stretching. Don’t force anything. It should feel good, you should both enjoy it.”_

Christ, this was worse than when he had to sit through Merle giving him “the talk.” On second thought, nothing would ever be worse than that. In fact, he was surprised he hadn’t turned gay sooner thanks to Merle’s overly graphic depictions of straight sex.

Like he’d summoned him with his thoughts, Merle opened the door to his room. “Thanks, I gotta go,” Daryl muttered, fumbling with his phone to end the call.

“Who was that, Darlina?” Merle asked, swiping hospital jello from his side table.

Daryl thought about Rick’s store-bought jello and wished he had some more of that, and more of Rick’s mouth on him. Maybe he would bring jello for dessert tomorrow night, the cherry kind because Rick and cherries were a deadly combination.

“Just a well-wisher,” Daryl said switching on the television.

“Yer girlfriend comin’ ta see ya?”

Daryl rolled his eyes, “Done told ya I ain’t got one.” It wasn’t a lie.

“Afraid I’ll scare her off? I promise I’ll be good. Michonne’ll tell ya,” Merle bargained.

He sighed and started flipping through the six channels on the TV. This was going to be a long couple of hours.

*****

The next morning, Rick found himself pursuing the female section of the shaving aisle after end of shift. Pink and purple razors adorned the shelves and flowery named shaving creams hurt his eyes with the bright colors and swirly scripts. He gave a quick look around as he came to the waxes. God, he was so far out of his element here, he had no idea what he was looking for.

But all he remembered was how smooth Daryl’s chest had been against his lips at the hospital the day before. He spent most of the night contemplating what to do about it. Daryl was used to a smoother lover and he wanted to accommodate him because fuck if he didn’t look like a hairy ape in comparison and what if that turned him off?

To make matters worse, who came strolling down the aisle when his back was turned? None other than Beth Greene, bright blue eyes piercing him after he spun when she tapped him on the shoulder. He had jerked around like he’d just been stung by a snake, chest heaving as the knowing grin spread across her lips.

“Hey Rick! Long time, no see,” she said.

“Hey Beth, how are ya?” was his stiff reply as he hid the home waxing kit that he pulled off the shelf behind his back.

She did a little number where she tried to peer behind him, but he turned slightly, “Just tryin’ to enjoy the last of my summer break.”

“It goes by quick, huh?”

“Sure does…is there anything I can help you with? You look a little out of place here.”

He couldn’t get help with personal grooming from the daughter of his boss’s boss could he? Well…he _was_ desperate. No, he couldn’t do it. “Nah, just browsing,” he lied. He knew she knew it was a lie.

There was a brief moment of awkward silence before she asked about Daryl.

“He’s doin’ fine, last I heard,” Rick told her, _which was ten minutes ago when he texted something about licking jello off me later._

“Well, I should be goin’. It was good to see ya. Tell Carl I said hi,” she smiled as she turned to continue down the aisle.

“Will do,” he called after, letting out the breath he was holding.

He tossed the waxing kit in his cart and grabbed some razors from the men’s section before heading to the checkout. If he were lucky, that would be the most embarrassing part of his day, but he wasn’t because who else happened to sidle up behind him in line? Abraham and Eugene.

“What’s going on, Rick?” Abe asked, slapping him on the back. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Merle sent us out to restock our razor supply.”

“Just, uh, pickin’ up some thangs,” he replied, attempting to block their view of the conveyor belt.

That was impossible due to Abraham’s gigantor stature, his cordial smile turning more impish as he took in Rick’s purchases. “Hot date tonight?” When he didn’t answer right away, Abe gave him another hard pat on the bag, “You sly dog! Musta got you one like my Rosie, she loves me _dolphin smooth._ “

Rick’s ears started burning as he averted his eyes from the ginger eyebrows engaged in a lascivious dance. That was more information than he ever wanted to know about the man and more information about himself than he wanted anyone to know. Ever.

“The ancient Egyptians invented sugaring to remove body hair. ‘Dolphin smooth’ was considered a symbol of class and status. Only slaves and servants had body hair,” Eugene said. “They were obsessed with cleanliness. The first documented male circumcision dates to ancient Egy—”

“Shut up, Eugene,” Abraham said, wincing at his words.

By that point Rick had moved to the register and was crimson as he tried to think of something other than having to yank out all his pubes and getting parts of his dick cut off without his consent. He paid as fast as he could and snatched up his bags to leave.

“Good luck, tiger,” Abraham called after him. He gave a wave over his shoulder and hightailed it out of there before anyone else showed up to add to his humiliation.

When he got home, he went straight to the fridge for a beer. He didn’t care that it was only ten in the morning; he needed some goddamn liquid courage. He was about to reach for a second but thought it best not to be drunk when he was planning an excursion into the unknown.

Fortunately, that would have to wait because he received a few repair calls around the building. Nothing major, a few burnt out bulbs, a haywire sprinkler, Millie’s fucked up disposal that he needed to replace. When he finished, he dropped Carl off at the movies with Patrick, and went home to prep for his date.

He had two hours until Daryl arrived. After a nice long shower in which he made sure to clean himself thoroughly, he stood in his bathroom naked attempting to talk himself into going through with it. With one last analysis of the pros, which mostly consisted of Daryl would maybe-probably like it, he heated up the wax and began to apply it to his chest.

Except he ended up overheating it and burning his skin. He cursed and groaned for a minute or two before applying the little cloth strip. If he didn’t hurry it was going to harden on his skin. He probably should’ve done a test area on his leg or something, but he hadn’t actually thought it through.

He took a deep breath and yanked off the strip…then spent the next five minutes curled up on the floor, eyes watering and teeth biting into his lip to keep from crying out in agony. How the hell did women do that shit? He had never been more convinced in his life that men were a bunch of whiny fucks in comparison to women than he was in that moment.

Once he was able to regain his composure, he surveyed the damage. He had a huge, red welt in the center of his chest, but it was dolphin smooth. He made a frantic emergency call to Eric who walked him through thinning out the rest of his chest hair to make it less awkward, but that didn’t help much. He had to remember to lead Daryl into the darkened bedroom if things went where he hoped they would later in the evening.

How could he have been so stupid?

But at least he looked a little less like an ape…of course the tropical forest was still a wild mess. He wasn’t brave enough to take a sharp razor to it, but he did manage a little trim with an electric razor. When he was finished he did the opposite of admire his handiwork. He looked…weird, like some kind of hairless cat or something.

Daryl better appreciate the shit out of him after going through all that.

He got dressed, his clothes now a little itchy against his chest, and went to start dinner. Carol had given him a chicken recipe she swore was fool proof and he started prepping. He had thirty minutes before Daryl came over, if he was on time, and he wanted everything to be mostly ready by then. The faster they ate, the sooner dessert would be served.

 _Ah, shit! Forgot about my hairy ass!_ he thought as a thud sounded on the door. But Daryl was just going to have to deal with it because no one should have to suffer like that for a lay. Rick had a newfound respect for women. The one strip had been more than enough. If Daryl wanted him waxed, he’d have to do it too.

*****

Daryl’s hands were shaking when he got to Rick’s building. He shoved one in his pocket in hopes it would stop, the other holding tight to the six-pack of Stella he’d brought. He was running a little late after having a small moment of panic when he couldn’t find his 'getting lucky' shirt, but it had been so long since he’d worn it that the damn thing had migrated to the very back of his closet. It was a bit ironic.

There were two people waiting for the elevator when he reached them. He had contemplated the stairs, but the door dinged and slid open when he approached. The couple stepped inside, turning to face him as he followed them in. He pushed the button for the third floor with the knuckles curled around the beer and prayed the ride would be short.

“You’re friend’s with Rick, aren’t you?” the man asked.

Daryl looked over his shoulder at him. He was tall with a strange smugness to his smile he had the urge to wipe off. “What’s it to ya?”

“I’m Pete. This is my wife Jessie,” he said, introducing the blonde Daryl recognized from a few months back. He still didn’t like her. “I’m the guy who takes the photos of the crowd on those arson calls. Really brutal stuff.”

“Right,” Daryl said, facing front, “Thanks.”

The elevator dinged on the third floor and he stepped out, annoyed that the couple followed him off. He could feel them watching him and heard Pete murmuring something indecipherable behind him. He stopped in front of Rick’s door and knocked, side-eying Pete and Jessie as they passed.

“Have a good evening,” Pete said, waving back to him. Jessie turned around and gave him a small smile that soon grew wide when it was transferred onto Rick when he opened the door. Yeah, he didn’t like her at all. But all that was forgotten by the time he made it across the threshold.

“How ya feeling?” Rick asked, taking the beer from him and walking to the refrigerator.

“ ‘M fine, don’t know why everybody was making such a big deal outta it,” he shrugged it off as he walked over to the stove to see what Rick had cooking. It smelled good despite several warnings he’d received from Carl about his lack of skills in the kitchen. He already knew that first hand from the firehouse, though.

When he spun around, Rick grabbed him by the collar of his leather vest and smashed their lips together. It only took half a second for his brain to catch up and both hands flew to Rick’s ass, pulling him in and sucking those velvety lips into his. He shivered when Rick’s hands raked through his hair, moaning into his mouth.

But Rick pulled away suddenly and scowled at him. “Maybe it’s because some people like havin’ your sorry ass around.”

“Ya ever call me ‘baby’ in front of anyone again an’ I won’t be,” Daryl replied, moving to the side when Rick pushed past him to attend to the food.

“Whatever ya say, baby,” Rick cooed. That earned him a slap on the ass, but Daryl was pretty sure he liked it.

“What’s fer dinner? And if I die of food poisonin’ I’m gonna haunt your skinny ass.”

“I’d probably die too, darlin’! But it’s a chicken an’ rice dish Carol gave me. Smells good, jus’ waitin’ on the rice to finish. Wanna grab us some beers?”

“You’re prolly immune to your cookin’,” he said, heading to the fridge and pulling out two of Rick’s beers since they were colder. He popped the top off one and handed it to Rick who was stirring a lemony smelling sauce.

Rick took a swig, Daryl aching to put his lips all over the elongate neck on display, then placed it on the counter. He pulled the spoon out of the pot, blew on it for a second, and plunged it into his mouth. The slurping sound was like an alarm clock for Daryl’s dick, the damn thing shooting up as he held back the whimper forming in his throat.

He hobbled over to the table to sit down, hoping Rick wouldn’t catch on to the massive hard-on in his pants. Sipping his beer and thinking about Merle talking about fishing was the only thing keeping his balls from exploding as he watched Rick buzz around the kitchen in his skin-tight tee and black jeans.

Daryl wondered how long he had to wait to rip them off of him. He would’ve done it right then, but he was feeling a little peckish. Besides, Rick had gone through a lot of trouble making dinner for him and he appreciated that, and on the plus side, it didn’t smell burnt.

A few minutes later, Rick joined him at the table and they had a nice, not-too-awkward first official date dinner. But if they both happened to rush through it, so be it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There be smut a comin'! XD


	33. Favorite Kind of Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Daryl spend the night, FINALLY, ffs!

It felt incredible to finally be alone together somewhere comfortable and private, warm skin under his palms as they crept up under Daryl’s shirt. He could feel the pull and release of every muscle as Daryl wiggled his hips on top of him. Strong thighs were caging in his, and the man’s tongue was doing some wicked thing to his collarbone, teeth dragging along the protrusion and sending tendrils of heat branching out from his cock that defied gravity and trickled up his spine.

Dinner had been nice, quiet, but his fingers had been itching to wrap around something other than a fork as he sat across from his date, tortured and forced to watch him eat. He hadn’t burned anything and considered that a victory, and by the way Daryl had shoveled food into his mouth, he had enjoyed it too. That or he was just as anxious as Rick was to get to dessert.

They had decided to watch a movie after, some action flick Carl had bought, but Rick was too wound up for that, his body buzzing yet taut like a bowstring pushed to its limits and he wanted to break, wanted to be broken, splintered and fractured so Daryl could put him back together again. All he had to do was fall apart first, and he was ready.

Daryl’s thigh was pressed into his, the warmth filling him to bursting as he tried not to squirm at the semi hard-on trying to break through his jeans. The movie was only halfway through when he felt a hand on his knee, his lungs refusing to cooperate as they sputtered in his chest. He looked over and caught Daryl’s eye. Then it was a blur of movement that might’ve been in slow motion as Daryl shed his vest and straddled him.

The first kiss was soft, hesitant and exploratory as they got their footing, not earthshaking but serene and familiar. He could still taste a lemony tang on Daryl’s lips when he mouthed over them. But the sweet soon gave way to sensual when fingers curled into his hair, Daryl deepening the kiss and rocking his hips forward in a way that had them both gasping and his body aching for more.

Rick had just enough mind to whisper “bedroom” against Daryl’s skin after thinking that fucking on the couch he sat on with his son was a little too much for him to handle. Daryl stood up, his hands trailing down Rick’s arms before taking his hands and pulling him up. And if Rick exaggerated the little wobble when he straightened, he’d never admit to it because it got Daryl’s arms around him again, steadying him, and no one could blame him for that.

They made their way down the hall, Daryl’s fingers toying with the hemline of his shirt as he mouthed at his neck. The room was bathed in a hazy orange glow due to the impending sunset. Rick had hoped they’d be able to get away with not turning on the lights, both because what they were about to do was admittedly a bit scary considering and the cover of night had a way of hiding imperfections, and also because his chest was a fucking mess thanks to Operation Dolphin Smooth.

With reluctance, he switched on the lamp on the nightstand. It would have to do, and he’d just hope Daryl wouldn’t notice. In an attempt at distraction, he spun around and pulled Daryl flush against him by the collar of his shirt. When they resumed kissing, Rick began undoing Daryl’s buttons with shaky fingers until he could push his shirt off those heavenly shoulders. He couldn’t resist kissing and nipping at them while he continued working the shirt.

And when Daryl finally managed to get all the dumb-as-fuck buttons on Rick’s own painted-on shirt undone, he made the startling discovery Rick had been hoping would go unnoticed. He should’ve known better and just confessed; luck was not on his side.

“Did ya do somethin’ to your…did you shave?”

“I…it was a spur of the moment thing,” he admitted, scratching the side of his neck.

Rick wasn’t a smooth man by any means. Daryl had seen him mostly naked on several occasions including that time he stole his clothes forcing him to walk out into the main room in nothing but a towel. So upon closer inspection, it was easy for Daryl to notice the hairless strip in the center of his chest.

“Did you…oh. My. God. You fucking waxed your chest, didn’t you?”

And just when Rick thought he was going to run out of the room, appalled and repulsed, Daryl nearly doubled over in laughter, cackling like drunk Merle would at a stupid sexist joke. This was going to be all over the firehouse by morning. He just knew it.

“It ain’t funny, dick. That shit hurt!” Rick’s eyebrows pulled together in humiliation and anger as he rubbed his chest. “ ‘N I did it for your sorry ass!”

“You…waxed…for me?”

“Yeah…I figured you were used to smooth bodies and I didn’t…I mean, it’s our first time, I guess I just didn’t want you ta be turned off by...would ya stop laughing?” Rick admonished when Daryl sat down on the bed, elbows on his knees still howling away at Rick’s misfortune.

“S-sorry, it’s just that…” he took a few cleansing breaths before his laughter abated. “Rick, you’re a hairy motherfucker, okay. I kinda expected it. I’ve seen ya naked before, but I still came didn’t I?”

Rick sighed, his shoulders slumping as he realized what an idiot he’d been. “Thought you’d like it.”

“Well, I was kinda jealous of all that hair, but then ya went and ruined it. It’s kinda of a shame too,” Daryl smirked, running his fingers over the thinned out trail that plunged down into the waistband of Rick’s jeans.

Rick’s breathing picked up when Daryl started to undo the button. “Ya still wanna do this?”

“ ‘M still here, ain’t I? Beside,” he quirked a brow, “I kinda wanna see what else ya did for me.”

Rick nodded as a shy smile broke across his lips. “Coulda probably handled this better.”

Daryl’s finger skated up his chest, over the fuzz that was left, until they reached his neck. He pulled Rick down and kissed him, his head tilting back and his legs parting to allow Rick to stand between them. Daryl stole the breath right out of his lungs, tongue dragging over his bottom lip before dipping back inside, and Rick felt drunk but not from the two beers he had with dinner.

“How should we—” Daryl asked, Rick’s forehead coming to rest on his when they broke apart.

“Suppose we can both get naked and see where it goes?”

“I can do naked. Ya got… _stuff?_ Brought some just in case.”

“Nah, I got it,” Rick said, moving to the nightstand to fish out the lube and a few condoms. Damn, he wasn’t sure he even remembered how to use one of those.

He averted his eyes from the photo of he and Lori and pushed down the twinge of guilt spiking through him. Maybe he should’ve put it away for the night–perhaps in the drawer where, ironically, he kept a picture of he and Daryl–or possibly turned it around, but the idea of doing so seemed more disrespectful than leaving it in its proper place. So he left it and hoped Daryl won't be too uncomfortable about it, if he even noticed.

They finished undressing and climbed between the clean sheets. Rick was thankful Daryl started kissing him again before things could get awkward. They took time for their fingers to explore each other’s bodies while they kissed. Soon Rick found himself throwing his calf over Daryl’s thigh to bring them closer together as the kisses turned more heated, their budding erections demanding more and more of that pleasurable friction as they grinded against each other.

Rick had been dreaming about this, fantasizing about how it would feel to have Daryl’s body next to his, to have his hands dancing on his bare skin, to have lips flickering on his jugular and teeth grazing over the line of his jaw. And none of it did the real thing justice.

It was too much and not enough, but he needed more. “Want you to…fingers.”

Daryl’s panting was almost as heavy as his were, “Have ya…y’know, done things?”

“I might’ve…when we’ve, uh, texted, sexted, or whatever ya call it.”

“You’ve…when we were—” Daryl sputtered at the images that confession conjured up in his sex-fueled brain. Rick shoving his fingers in his ass when they jacked off with each other was hotter than he realized it would be, but Rick was asking him to do it.

“Have you…done things?”

Daryl nodded.

Rick’s cheeks warmed from more than just Daryl at the thought of what he was about to ask, but he threw caution to the wind and spit it out anyway. “Should we finger each other?”

There was another moment of silence before Daryl’s chest started to tremble against his as he attempted to hold in a laugh. Rick groaned but soon joined in the chucklefest because at least they both knew it was awkward. That was okay though because Daryl was still there and so was he, moving forward, making progress, and he was sure he wouldn’t have felt as comfortable with anyone else.

“You, uh, want me ta go first?” Rick asked.

Daryl shook head. He douched for this for fuck’s sake. Literally. “Nah, I wanna…” He rolled over onto his back, Rick following his lead. “And I’m clean, jus’ so ya know.”

“Me too, haven’t been with anyone but…” Risk trailed off, not wanting to finish that train of thought.

“Meant my ass…but that too. They ran all that at my physical a few months back.”

“Yeah, mine too. And for the record, my ass is also clean.”

Rick had decided they had stalled enough. He gave Daryl a hard kiss on the lips, then started down his body, showering him with soft pecks as he went along: over his chest, past his abs, then onto his cock. Daryl’s hands were tangled in his hair, his nails raking over Rick’s scalp.

Daryl was watching him when he looked up. His pupils were a dark thing, some wild untamed place he wanted to fall right into, get lost in, or maybe he already was.

 _Lots of lube,_ he reminded himself. He grabbed the bottle and poured a generous amount on the tips of his fingers. “Ready?”

Rick watched as he let out a slow breath. “Jus’ go slow, alright?”

“Yeah, of course…let me know if I do somethin’ wrong, if ya don’t like it.”

He clenched when the cool lube hit him but shook Rick off when he asked if he was okay. It was just different…and kind of nice when Rick began to swirl his finger around his sensitive hole. It was better than nice actually, better than when Daryl did it himself, and the kisses and tender licks along the head of his dick helped him relax. So much so that he gasped when Rick pushed into him, not out of shock, because Rick had warned him, but out of a fervent desire for more.

“Is that okay?” Rick asked, his voice a little hoarse as he rasped the words into the quiet room.

“ ‘S good,” he replied as he let himself get lost in the feeling, of lips on him, of the tip of a finger in him, the bright blues eyes that were looking up at him with a curious wonder. It was all pretty fantastic, although a bit foreign, but nothing that he couldn’t get used to, nothing that wasn’t worth getting used to. “More,” he requested, demanded, maybe even needed.

Rick did what he asked, Daryl’s back bowing off the bed with the addition, his cock twitching in invitation. Rick kept moving his fingers as he took the leaky tip into his mouth, teasing at the slit and slipping lips down his shaft. His own disregarded cock was starting to weep as he listened to the sounds Daryl was making, but he wanted a turn before they decided which way everything went.

He pulled out his fingers and released him causing Daryl to pin him with a questioning look. “Why’d ya stop?”

“My turn?”

“But you just fuckin’ started!” Daryl protested. “Just a little longer…please.” And yes he fucking whined. He couldn’t believe he was begging to have someone else’s fingers shoved up his ass, but damn if that didn’t feel pretty spectacular. So much better than when it was just his own fingers.

“Thought this was just to test the waters?”

“My test drive ain’t over.”

And goddamn, Rick wasn’t about to argue, not with the way he sounded, all needy and wanton, so fucking wrecked. So onward he pressed until Daryl was close to plummeting over the edge, and Rick could get used to this, to the sight of Daryl’s body withering in his bed, mouth agape as he keened and moaned, fingers twisted in the sheets, a heel digging into his back.

God he was gorgeous like that.

Eventually they were switching positions, Daryl mirroring what Rick had done to him and teasing Rick’s cock as he slid a finger inside him. Rick’s body was vibrating as the digit stimulated the ring of muscle of his hole. And fuck that felt good. Now he knew why Daryl was making all those delicious sounds and putting up such a fuss.

Then Daryl hit something magical inside him and his world exploded like a goddamn supernova. He felt like he stuck a fork in an electrical socket except a hundred times better, if he had to guess. “Shit! I think you found my prostate,” he squealed as he fisted the sheets. That was when he knew he would be the one getting fucked.

Daryl had removed his fingers when he tensed thinking he had done something wrong but was relieved to know he hadn’t. Spurred on by Rick’s pleads for more, he reentered him, and when he kept asking for more, Daryl pressed in a third finger. It was a snug fit, and he wondered how he’d ever get his cock inside, but Rick’s ass opened like a damn flower as he went along.

He couldn’t keep his eyes in one place; between Rick’s head thrown back in rapture, the way his knuckles were disappearing into his slick hole, and the leaking cock laying heavy on his stomach, Daryl was on visual overload. All he knew was that he made Rick look like that, and he wanted to see how far he had to go to make him fall apart.

“Daryl, please! I need more.”

“Like what? You want me to fuck ya?”

“Yeah,” Rick breathed without a second though, picking up his head to look at him. Yeah, he wanted that a lot. “Unless you—”

“No, I kinda like you like this. Ya sure though?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Toss me a condom then,” Daryl said, pushing himself onto his knees and inching forward. “Oh and a pillow.”

Daryl watched him gnaw on his lip for a second before he spoke, “Kinda wanna feel you.”

He swallowed at the raw earnest sound of Rick’s voice. “Gonna be messy.”

“Sex is sometimes. But we’re both clean, yeah?”

“Yeah…still gonna need a pillow.”

Rick let out a nervous chuckle and threw him a pillow that Daryl placed under his hips. He watched with half hooded eyes as Daryl slicked up his cock. It was about to happen, he was about to get fucked in the ass, loss his gay virginity—anal virginity?—and there was something incredibly thrilling about that.

“Ready?” Daryl asked as he positioned himself between Rick’s knees.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” he said. He thought he was ready at least, until he tensed when the head of Daryl’s cock slipped into his ass.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, fuckshit! Sorry, just…”

“Ya gotta relax,” Daryl soothed, running a hand up his thigh to curl around his cock hoping to distract him as he gave him a few slow tugs. He knew Rick, knew he was overthinking this because so was he. Rick nodded when he was ready for him to try again, them getting a little further before Rick’s body tensed again.

Daryl was about to pull out, but Rick stopped him, “No, it’s good…just different, just…jus’ go slow.” The fullness was an odd sensation. It burned initially, nothing too terrible, and the euphoric state his body was thrown into far outweighed it. So Daryl kept pushing forward a little at a time until he was finally buried to the hilt. “Just need a minute,” Rick said, the heat and fullness sending ripples of bliss throughout his body.

“Yeah,” Daryl whispered. He slowly leaned down and rested his weight on his forearms, and they took a moment to breathe each other in. Rick’s hands skated up his back, over the ridges of scar tissue, up to his neck, and then into his hair. He pulled him down and they shared a kiss that was seared onto his memory, locked in time, because it was damn near perfect.

Rick was so tight and hot around him that Daryl almost couldn’t breathe. It was like Rick was wrapped around his whole body, and he wanted to move, but he wouldn’t, not until Rick was ready. And as much as it scared him, he couldn’t wait until they tried it the other way around. Rick trusted him enough to do this, and he trusted Rick.

“Okay, jus’ slow,” Rick said, his voice low and gravelly, and quite sexy too.

Daryl obliged, pulling back just a little before giving a few experimental thrusts. Rick started moaning, which he took as green light to speed up, every forward plunge deeper and faster than the last until they had a pretty good rhythm going. He wasn’t quite sure what he had been expecting, but this far outweighed his deepest fantasies because Rick was real underneath him, so beautiful.

Rick wrapped his legs around his waist, and that must’ve changed the angle just right, because nails dug into his back and Rick shouted a few curses as his whole body shuddered. “Keep fuckin’ doin’ that!” he said, so Daryl did.

He was already addicted to this, to Rick, to the way they fit together, so fucking intimate, and in a way he’d never been with anyone before, that he knew he’d never be with anyone else. Rick’s limbs looped around him were the only things keeping him from floating away. He hammered his hips forward a little harder, and before Rick had a chance to give him any kind of warning, he came, a jet of spunk pooling between them, his dick practically untouched minus the friction of their bodies as they moved as one.

“Did you jus’…”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to,” Rick said, unsure if that was a compliment or not. He hadn’t come that fast in years, body tensing as Daryl stilled his hips.

“You want me to pull out?”

“Well…I was kinda hopin’ for the whole _experience,_ ” Rick snickered.

Daryl rolled off him, “Well, my arms are getting tired.”

Rick reached for the tissues to clean them up. Daryl’s cock was still at attention, and he was determined to fix that. “We could try a different position.”

Daryl shrugged as he sat up, “Kinda wanna see ya ridin’ me.”

He nodded back and sat up, throwing a leg over him. Daryl was kind enough to help him get in just the right position. His orgasm must’ve loosened him up because he slid down Daryl’s shaft pretty easily. It would be a little while before his refractory period was up, but it still felt pretty damn good having Daryl so deep inside him, hands curved around his hips as he rocked against him. Damn good.

Rick honestly didn’t think it would take that long to make Daryl come, but after a solid twenty minutes of riding his dick pretty fucking well if you asked him considering the sounds Daryl was making and the way the tips of his fingers were digging into his back, he started to wonder if maybe he wasn’t doing such a good job. His thighs were burning and they were both drenched in sweat from exertion.

But more importantly…things were starting to chafe.

“Baby, if ya don’t like it, you can jus’ say so and we can stop,” Rick said, his body slumping with defeat and fatigue.

“I like it, okay? ‘S just nerves or somethin’.”

Rick slid off and reached for the lube hoping it would help. The truth was neither of them were spring chickens, and firefighting—carrying the weight of all that gear—had not been kind on his joints. “Well, I’m good to keep goin’ if you are, but my knee was—”

“It’s all good, Rick, just…” Daryl bit his lip and looked down at the bed between them, “jus’ happens sometimes,” he shrugged.

His cock was still hard and pulsing and it had Rick wanting to lick his way over veins if it hadn’t just been in his ass, but as long as they were both still enjoying themselves it was okay. “How ‘bout we try with the pillow again? That was good, huh? And more lube.”

So back to missionary they went.

“Better?” Daryl asked after he slid back inside, and that was a still an awesome feeling, being stretched and filled once more.

Then it was another mad flurry of kissing and thrusting and puffs of air on necks followed by nips and tongues tracing the marks. Rick’s cock was reawakening and that was wonderful, but he wasn’t going to give up until Daryl came inside him. This was personal, dammit! Desperate times and desperate measures, so he trailed his hand down Daryl’s marred back, his middle finger tracing the cleft of his ass to his loosened hole, still slick with lube.

His intention had been just to tease the rim a bit, but a finger slipped inside easily enough and then the angle was changing as Daryl bucked his hips so that his dick went rubbing against Rick’s prostate again. He cried out Daryl’s name from the shock of it all when he came for the second time, and that must’ve set Daryl off because he felt him explode deep inside until they were both just a quivering mess of sweat and come, muscles going slack after their release.

“Fuck Rick!” Daryl had yelled somewhere in the middle of it.

Rick thought someone had banged on the wall in reply, but he really didn’t give a fuck about that, not then and certainly not in his post-orgasmic cloud of euphoria as they were settling in under the sheets. He hadn’t been laid in two fucking years so they could kiss his come-filled ass.

“Ya owe me one, Asshole,” Daryl chuckled when he pulled Rick against his chest after a bit of cleanup.

“Oh yeah, Darlin’? Well, wake me in an hour.”

And he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've all waited long enough for this chapter, so I put my notes on the bottom. I really had not expected for it to be 2 months before I posted this chapter, but I had so much trouble with it and with muses and personal shit, and there were times where I wanted to delete this whole fucking thing and walk away from this fandom with my tail between my legs, but I had so many wonderful people cheering me on and I can't even begin to thank them for putting up with all my whining and bitching, though I'm so glad they did. But after 3 or 4 rewrites of this chapter, I was finally happy with it, and I hope you were too. It's perfectly imperfect because, let's face it, most first times are, but I still hope it was hot enough and worth the wait. <3


	34. Pancakes & Postcards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

Daryl’s ass ached. This was an expected occurrence, and he couldn’t say he minded too much when memories of why flashed through his head. His whole body lurched when he had gotten out of bed, out of Rick’s bed, which was the reason for his ungraceful limp down the hallway. Muscles weakened if you didn’t use them, and it had been a long time, too long, since he’d had sex with anyone but himself.

But damn if he hadn’t had the best fuck of his life.

After round one, they had both dozed off only for him to wake up to Rick sucking on his neck, his toes curling into the sheets. Then it was Rick’s turn to fuck him into the mattress and hadn’t that been life affirming. But he was having a hard time getting over the way Rick’s tight ass had bloomed like a fucking orchid when he started poking around in there. He might’ve been a little obsessed about it, but it had only been a few hours, so the jury was still out.

“Hey Darlin’,” Rick drawled, and Daryl was not going to blush at that. No he was not.

Rick was standing with his hip leaning against the counter nursing a mug of coffee. He had on loose-fitting pajama bottoms that Daryl was going to resist thrusting his fingers down and a white tee. His curls were disheveled, but his smile was picture perfect, all white teeth and plump lips.

“Mornin’,” he replied with a bob of his head.

Rick held out another mug, and Daryl was sure he floated like a cartoon all the way to it. They hadn’t slept much last night since they had insisted on playing some kind of sex tag or something. Not that he was going to complain about that or about the fact that he had a hot boyfriend. The ‘boyfriend’ part had him smiling against his mug.

He cleared his throat when he looked up from taking his first sip to find a pair of big blue eyes staring at him, a hint of cobalt fire in them that made his dick twitch. That poor thing had been abused last night. It deserved a little rest, but if Rick wanted it, he wasn’t above bending him over the kitchen table and fucking him till they both shot dry.

“Do you want somethin’ to eat?” Rick asked, his eyes snapping to Daryl’s from where they had been zeroed in on his lips.

His stomach rumbled at the thought. He was ravenous. They had burned a helluva lot of calories last night. And maybe he wanted an excuse to spend more time with Rick. He didn’t know when Carl was supposed to be home or how things worked when you dated someone with a kid. He shrugged his shoulders hoping to come off nonchalant, “I could eat.”

“Since it’s almost eleven, did you want breakfast or lunch?”

“What about brunch?”

Rick chuckled as he rubbed an eye with the knuckle of his thumb, “Isn’t that like mimosas and scones or somethin’?”

Daryl scoffed to cover the fact that he didn’t know either. “How ‘bout some pancakes? You’re always ravin’ about how you make the best. Why not put your money where your mouth is.” Even though he wanted that mouth somewhere else.

“Ya wanna make a bet on whether I can make pancakes?” Rick asked, with a scoff of his own.

“Nah, just tell me where the fire extinguisher is.”

He got a swat on the ass for that as Rick moved to grab the milk and eggs. Daryl sat on the counter and watched him mix the batter and got a swat on the hand when he plunged a finger in to scoop up some of the bitter mixture.

Brunch was quiet. Daryl didn’t have much to say, but it wasn’t a strained silence and neither felt compelled to compensate for their lack of conversation. They ate at the table and might’ve played footsies, but no one needed to know that. Daryl had to give him credit, despite Rick’s lack of culinary prowess, he did know how to make a mean pancake.

Carl was supposed to be back around dinner time, so assuming that they had a few more hours before Daryl had to scuttle along, they made their way to the couch for a nice after brunch make out session. Rick tasted like sugary syrup when he licked into his mouth and it felt so good to have his weight bearing down on him as they kissed.

After awhile, that had to give that up. They both had some nice stubble going on and Daryl’s lips were starting to feel a bit chaffed. It was a good thing too because as soon as they had decided to finish the movie they gave up the night before, Carl came barreling through the door. Rick jumped off of him since they had been snuggling, and Daryl sat up, his heart rate skyrocketing at the unexpected intrusion.

“Carl? What’s goin’ on?” Rick asked, rubbing a hand over his face and straightening the t-shirt that Daryl’s hands had been roaming under for the past twenty minutes.

The kid looked pissed. His face was red and his chest was heaving, hair tousled like he’d just run a marathon. “Mrs. Johnson had an emergency and had to drop me off early. I tried to call you to come pick me up, but you didn’t answer your phone,” Carl growled.

Daryl stood up and was going to take his chance of sneaking out the door, “I should prolly…”

“ ‘M sorry, Carl, my phone must—”

They both flinched when Carl slammed his hand on the table, “I went to get the mail on the way up and the asshole is back!” Without another word, he took off down the hall.

Daryl wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. He didn’t think Carl was talking about him, but something must’ve really been fucked up if Rick hadn’t bothered to correct his language like he usually did. And to be honest, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. But he was frozen in place, as he watched Rick walk over to the table and pick up a piece of mail.

Rick’s shoulders drooped as he read what looked to be a postcard, then ran a hand over his brow before pinching the bridge of his nose. They had sex all night and Rick was his boyfriend, but he wasn’t sure about the proper etiquette for the current situation. Before he could ask Rick if he should leave, Rick had sat down at the table with his elbows on the wood and buried his face in his hands.

Daryl padded over to him. He held out his hand over his shoulder for a few seconds before he lowered it onto Rick’s shoulder. That was enough to get Rick to hold up the postcard for him.

 

> _My Dear Rick and Carl,_
> 
> _It’s been so long since you visited me last that I’ve almost forgotten your faces. I’m sure you’ve been busy moving on with your lives, must be nice, but I do hope to see you next week when you come to visit mommy dearest and the wifey. The two-year anniversary is the cotton anniversary, whatever that means, but you don’t need to get me anything. Your presence will be enough._
> 
> _Be sure to stop by on your way out. You remember where I’m buried, don’t you? Under the big weeping willow, five rows down from Lori? The cemetery is lonely without you, but she keeps me company. Who knows, maybe you’ll both be joining us sooner rather than later. What a sweet reunion that’ll be. Until then!_
> 
> _Love,  
>  Alex_

 

“What the hell is this?” Daryl snapped. He didn’t mean to, and he wished he hadn’t when Rick looked up at him, eyes red rimmed and puffy.

“It’s my fault,” he said, almost too quiet for Daryl to hear him.

“Rick, this is a death threat! Who the hell is Alex?”

Rick jabbed his knuckles into his eyelids as he sniffled, which made Daryl feel guilty for raising his voice. He pulled out the chair next to Rick’s and sat down. Why’d he have to be such an asshole all the time? “Didn’t mean ta yell…who’s Alex?”

“It ain’t from Alex. Alex is dead. He was shanked in prison after a failed escape attempted,” Rick bit out, running both hands through his hair.

“Rick, how is that your fault?”

“Because I…I testified against ‘im. He…” Rick paused and took in a stuttered breath, turning to look at Daryl for the first time since he’d sat down. “He killed Lori.”

Daryl was confused, but he didn’t want to press, didn’t want Rick closing up on him if it wasn’t something he was ready to talk about. He’d never dated anyone who lost a spouse before, so he had no idea what the standard operating procedure was in regards to talking about the deceased. And he certainly wasn’t sure he was equipped to handle it, but if Rick needed to talk, then he’d listen.

“He was the driver that hit her…I testified an’ he went to jail. There was a foiled escape attempt that his brother helped with or somethin’, but he ended up getting’ killed in prison…then…then we started gettin’ these postcards. I thought that after we moved, they would stop, but…” Rick waved the card in the air then threw it on the table where it skidded to the other side and fell to the floor.

“Then who’s sending the cards?”

Rick shrugged, “I don’t know, but I’m guess it’s his brother, Gareth. We didn’t get one last month and I thought they had stopped, but I guessed wrong.”

“Have ya reported this to the police or somethin’?”

Rick shook his head.

“Jesus, Rick! Ya already got that psycho arsonist after ya. Ya really don’t need anymore shit. And what about Carl?” Daryl asked, whispering the last part.

“It ain’t a big deal, alright? He’s just pissed about his brother dyin’. Besides, like ya pointed out, I got other shit ta deal with…’s just that it riles up Carl…an’ I…guess I’ve just been too preoccupied with you to remember that it’s next week…”

Daryl wasn’t sure what to make of that. “Preoccupied?”

Rick’s eyes jerked over to him, “I didn’t mean it in a bad way, it’s just that…when we met I was kinda in a bad place and ya helped me through it without me even realizin’ it.” He laid his hand on the table, palm up, and Daryl didn’t hesitate to slip his fingers in between Rick’s. “I think I need ta go check on Carl now. He’s probably done coolin’ off.”

Daryl gave a squeeze of his hand and he hoped that was enough. “I should prolly go feed Smokestack anyway. She’s gonna be pissed I didn’t come home last night.”

They both let go then stood up, awkwardly hovering for a moment, in each other’s space but not touching. Just as time was about to stretch into too long, Rick all but collapsed against him, his body sagging into Daryl’s. All Daryl could do was wrap his arms around him and hold him up. He didn’t mind, Rick felt good against him, all hard lines and sharp angles, but their whole date had been more intimacy than he’d had in awhile. It took a moment for him to give into it, to the feeling of Rick’s breath ghosting over his skin, a face nuzzling against his neck, but it felt right.

There was a muffled sorry as Rick started to pull away, but he threaded his fingers through his hair and brought their mouths together. Carl was in the house, and he wasn’t sure if Rick would be okay with risking them getting caught kissing in the kitchen, but the way Rick melted into the kiss had him thinking that was more important at the moment. Rick needed some goddamn comfort and he was going to give it to him any way he could.

He let him go when Rick moved away the second time, but Rick’s fingers stayed fisted in his shirt for a few beats more. “I had a good time…god that just sounds weird after last night. I mean, of course it was good, better than good, great and ‘m sorry about ruinin’ it and havin’ ta send ya away—”

As much as Daryl was enjoying his ramblings and the blush edging its way onto those magnificent cheekbones, he thought he’d give him a break. Just this once in light of recent events. He pressed a tender kiss to his lips, smiling only after he felt Rick do the same against him, “I’ll text ya later, Rick.”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

He turned towards the living room and heard Rick moving down the hall as he collected his things, slipping on shoes before slipping out the door. The night had been so damn perfect, so of course some asshole was going to ruin it for them, but he was glad Rick was feeling a little better. He hadn’t realized how much Rick had gone through in the past few years and he’d spent way too much time in the beginning being a total dick to him. He’d make up for it now, though.

He couldn’t imagine what losing his wife had been like, but Rick was doing well as a single dad. Carl was a cool kid, and he was glad the teen seemed to approve of him. From what he could tell, they were both coping well, but the last thing he wanted to do was to make things awkward or tense for either of them. He’d just have to trust that Rick would let him know if that were the case.

Other than that, he thought he was doing pretty well at navigating the whole relationship now that him and Rick were in one. Amy had been his only long-term relationship. That hadn’t turned out too well, but he liked Rick. A lot. Maybe too much. How much was too much? How fast was too fast? He felt a little lost, but in a good way. The kind of lost that led to an amazing scenic route you wouldn’t have found otherwise.

Because it was so much more than just the amazing sex that he now felt like an idiot for overthinking. Last night had been different, and they still had a long way to go in terms of finding out what worked best for them, but it was a good start, a great start, and he just hoped he wouldn’t do anything to fuck it up.

*****

Rick didn’t have much time to reflect on him and Daryl’s overnight date. Carl had been very upset about the stupid postcard and he’d spend all day trying to uplift his spirits a little bit. The next two shifts were incredibly busy, thanks to the end of summer rush, as well as a rainy few days that led to more accident calls. It kept them on their toes.

It was a good thing because thinking was the last thing he’d wanted to do. Thinking got him in trouble, made him second guess things, and he did not want to second guess their first night together or overthink the way the next morning had ended. Daryl hadn’t seemed distant or like he wanted to bail after Rick dumped his baggage all over him, which meant he was counting the whole experience as a win.

But that all came to an end when him and Carl hopped in the car. Their hometown was only ninety minutes away, but that meant at least an hour of quiet thoughts because he was sure neither him nor Carl could keep up a conversation that long to save their lives. He tried, but after receiving a few grunts in reply when he asked Carl if he was excited about school, he was ready to give up.

He was surprised, but it was Carl who broke the strangled silence and yanked him from thoughts of why Daryl was interested in the old guy with a kid who still had a picture of his dead wife on the nightstand, a bastard arsonist trying to kill him, and some fucking deranged stalker. Not to mention the whole Phillip thing since the guy had yet to be located.

“Hey dad…is it weird to be dating a guy?”

Rick choked on some spittle, and he swore he heard Carl snicker. “Uh, well, it’s different, but, I mean people are different so it’s like datin’ a…person.”

“Thanks for clearing that up,” Carl chided as he rolled his eyes toward the passenger window.

He missed the days when Carl was too young to call him on his bullshit, but to be fair, he had no idea what drivel he just spewed. “Yeah, it is weird, but not in a bad way. I like Daryl…” But what if Carl didn’t? They had talked about him before and Carl had given him some sort of consent, but that didn’t mean he liked the guy. “Is it weird for you? Do you not like ‘im?”

“He’s cool,” Carl said as he shrugged. “I know he’s not replacing mom or anything, but I just wanted to make sure he’s not gonna string you along.” Rick couldn’t help but smile at that. “Me and you gotta stick together, right?”

“Right,” he nodded along.

“I just wanted to make sure he’s good enough for you. Do you think mom would approve of him?”

Rick had asked himself that question before, and to be honest, he wasn’t sure of the answer. They were both so different that it was like comparing apples to peas, and he loved both. The truth was he was still getting used to Daryl. They were at the beginning of their relationship, but deep down Rick had a good feeling about it, about them, about Daryl. Maybe he always had or maybe it was something that built up over time, he wasn’t sure, but yeah, Daryl was good enough for him.

He felt much more at ease for the rest of the drive. Carl had flipped on the radio and they’d found a station that they both agreed on. But that all changed when he pulled the jeep up to Lori’s parents’ house. That’s when it hit him, all the survivor’s guilt he’d been waiting for since he realized his feelings for Daryl went beyond mere friendship.

Everything started closing in around him, and the last thing he heard Carl say before he succumbed to the depths of a panic attack was, “I knew this was gonna happen.”


	35. Chemistry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Carl visit Lori's grave then have heart-to-hearts with Daryl.

The cemetery looked the same as it did on the day of the funeral, a variety of flowers—some fresh and some fake—lined the manicured rows of the deceased. There were a few grave stones scattered about but most plots had name plaques with flower holders marking them. Lori’s was the latter, nice shiny marble inlayed in the ground with her name, birth, and death date chiseled into it and an inscription that read _Beloved Wife and Mother._

Rick took out the fake pink carnations left by Lori’s mother, the fabric now faded by the sun, and replaced them with a bouquet of white roses. He wasn’t good at this; he never knew what to say or how to comfort his son. So they both stood there in the blistering Georgia heat staring down at a patch of too-green grass and a polished rock.

That wasn’t her anymore, six feet under, just bones and some dusty clothes, which still hit him as this surreal thing. Death, a concept that was too difficult for him to even begin to comprehend at times, how someone can be there one minute and not the next, an entire existence, a whole miniature ecosystem destroyed and stuck in the ground to be recycled back into the Earth.

It was heavy and weighty and still painful within him. He’d never get over it; he knew that, he’d accepted that. She’d always be there in his heart, in Carl’s smile, and it hurt, but it was numbing—the wound scarring over—and maybe someday it would fade into a dull ache just like the color on the silk flowers, but unlike the flowers, she couldn’t be replaced. And he knew that too.

But Daryl was different, so different, and he wondered if the reason he was attracted to a man was because he was afraid to let himself be attracted to any other women, like he’d be cheating if he did, tarnishing the memory. He hoped that wasn’t the reason because he really liked Daryl, liked being around him, liked fighting with him and stumbling through their relationship like the idiots they were.

He couldn’t imagine being with anyone else, but there was a time when he thought that way about Lori too. That time had faded away, and now there was Daryl, standing in the shadow of it coming into view, a phoenix rising from the goddamned ashes. He wasn’t sure he believed in fate, but he didn’t know what else to call it other than a big fucking coincidence. Though, he didn’t think he believed in those either.

Once Carl had had a moment to himself, they made their way back to the car, pointedly avoiding Alex’s grave. He didn’t feel guilty for putting that man away, the man who took so much from him and from Carl. However, he was starting to wonder whether Daryl had been right about reporting the postcards to the police, but it didn’t seem to be that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things.

A car pulled up behind them as he was unlocking the jeep, his eyes jumping to the driver seat on instinct. For a split second, he was afraid it was Gareth coming to make good on ‘Alex’s’ threat, but the long hair settled the anxiety that had started to creep in. That was until he had a moment to place the face. He swung his own door open just as Mary, Gareth and Alex’s mother, stepped out of her vehicle with a glower aimed right at him.

“Get in the car, Carl.” He didn’t have to say it; Carl had already climbed in.

Rick followed suit and slammed his door a little harder than he intended. The panicky feeling was building in his chest again, palms going sticky and his chest tightening with every exhale, as memories of court appearances and that horrid day two years prior began to trickle in from his subconscious where they always seemed to linger just out of sight.

“Dad?” Rick turned to look at his son’s concerned face, eyes the same sharp blue as his hiding a tinge of fear. “Deep breaths, remember?”

He nodded and concentrated on the sound of Carl’s voice, letting it soothe him and remind him of where he was and that he still had so much goodness in his life.

“They just came to get into our heads. We can’t let them, “Carl said.

Rick followed Carl’s gaze out the window. Gareth was with her now, and they were standing at Alex’s grave. He had both arms around his mother and it was clear that she was crying, shoulders heaving as he rubbed a hand down her back. She lost a child, and Rick understood what she was going through in that regard, but he had a hard time finding any ounce of sympathy for either of them.

Gareth, seeming to sense the scrutiny, looked over at them, eyes honing right in on Rick’s with a glare that sent ice down his spine. He didn’t think the man was a threat, but something in his eyes had him second-guessing his original assessment. When he got home, he was going to report the cards, if nothing more than for his own peace of mind.

He looked back at Carl when he asked, “Can we go home now?”

Rick nodded, “Yeah.”

They went back to Lori’s parents’ and packed up their things. The grandparents were saddened that they didn’t get more time with Carl, but they understood. There was no point being somewhere that made them miserable and Rick could tell Carl was having just as difficult of a time as he was. Charlotte packed them some sandwiches for the road and they went home.

The drive was somber and quiet, both of them lost in heavy thoughts, but it wasn’t until they pulled into their parking spot that Carl finally broke down. Rick was about to open his door when he heard him sniffle followed by a quiet “I miss her.” Tears welled and Rick leaned over the center console to hug him. They’d spent a lot of time sobbing against each other right after the accident, but Carl had been stoic about things for a while now.

He wondered how much of that was Carl trying to stay strong for him, trying to keep things locked up so that he wouldn’t upset him, but the last thing he wanted was his son thinking he wasn’t allowed to be sad or allowed to express his emotions however he needed to for Rick’s sake.

“I miss her too, Carl,” Rick murmured into his shaggy mop of hair. “Everyday…an’ it still hurts, but we’re gettin’ through it, we’re healin’ and that’s what she would’ve wanted for us. She loved you so much an’ she’d be so proud of the man you’re becomin’.”

“She’d want you to be happy too.”

Rick sighed, his arms tightening around his son, “I’m gettin’ there, kiddo.”

Carl pulled away and wiped his eyes on the hem of his shirt. “We’re getting there.”

“Yeah, we are.”

They climbed out after a few more minutes and made their way to their apartment. Carl had declined the suggestion of a movie when they got inside. He said that he wanted to be alone for a while and slinked down the hallway to his room. Rick assured him he would be there if he needed to talk. He took his bags to his room then flopped down on his bed, the same bed he’d shared with Daryl last week, the memories rushing in as soon as his body stopped rebounding off the springs.

He dug his phone out of his pocket and pulled up his messages. His fingers were itching to hit the keys, but he had told Daryl he wouldn’t be home until tomorrow. Obviously, things were still new between them and he wasn’t sure how much of his baggage he could or was allowed to dump on his boyfriend this early on. He found himself typing out a message despite his uncertainty.

*****

Daryl was doing pushups in his living room when his phone chimed. The photo shoot for the calendar was coming up next week and he wanted to look like he could at least carry someone out of a burning building if he had to.

_[Rick]: Hey. Just letting u know we got back early._

He furrowed his brow as he looked down at the screen. They weren’t supposed to be back until the next day, and had to wonder if something had happened. He wiped his sweaty hands on his shirt and picked up his phone.

[Daryl]: Everything ok?

It took far too long for Rick to reply with a simple ‘yeah.’

[Daryl]: Bullshit, what happened?

_[Rick]: Nothing really, just not a good trip_

[Daryl]: Tell me what happened or I’ll ask Carl. The lil dude gave me his number

_[Rick]: Nothing to worry about really_

_[Rick]: u might b right about the postcards_

He didn’t give Rick a chance to explain before he pulled up Rick’s number and called him. “What the hell do ya mean I was right?”

 _“Well it’s nice ta hear your voice too,”_ Rick cooed.

Daryl rolled his eyes, happy no one was around to see his shy smirk. “Shut up, Asshole, an’ tell me what happen?” Rick was obviously shaken a bit because he told him about the panic attacks and Gareth showing up at the cemetery. He had expected to have to drag details out of him, but he guessed that Rick needed someone to talk to, and he supposed that was part of his job now.

“Alright, I’ll be over in a few,” Daryl said.

_“That ain’t necessary, Darlin’. ‘M jus’ gonna watch some TV then go ta bed.”_

“Ya’ll need ta eat don’cha?”

_“Was jus’ gonna order in.”_

“I’ll pick up a pizza.”

Daryl hung up before Rick could argue and called up his favorite pizza joint before jumping in the shower for a quick rinse. He was out the door in ten minutes and was pulling up to their apartment in just over twenty.

“Ya really didn’t have to,” Rick said when he opened the door to let him in, but his eyes were thankful, betraying his words.

Daryl wanted to kiss him, but instead, he shoved the pizza at him and walked passed him to the kitchen. “Gotta any beer?” He didn’t wait for Rick to answer before he opened the door and reached for the last two bottles, popping off the tops and taking a long pull from his. He gave the other to Rick after he put the pizza on the table.

“How’s he doin’?” Daryl asked, nodding his head in the direction of the bedrooms.

Rick took a swig from his beer then sat it down on the table. He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger, “It’s been a hard few years.” He looked like he was about to fall apart, so Daryl moved toward him and slipped both of his arms around him, thinking it was the right move when Rick relaxed against him. “ ‘S just a hard day, y’know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

It had been nearly three decades since Daryl’s own mother died in a fire, and it left a void that would never be filled, a dark hole in his heart. He knew better than most what it was like to lose a parent at such a young age, but Carl was lucky he had a father who loved him as much as Rick did, and an aunt like Carol. Daryl only ever had Merle.

He moved a hand up to the base of Rick’s neck, carding the tips of his fingers into his hair, “An’ how are _you_ doin’?”

Rick leaned back a little, his eyes flittering over Daryl’s face before meeting his eyes, “Better now.” Then he was leaning forward and their lips were locking together, their bodies sliding into place like they’d known each other for ages. Rick broke away far too soon panting little puffs of air on Daryl’s lips. “I should go check on ‘im, see if he wants ta eat with us.”

Daryl nodded, licking the remnants of Rick off his lips. He pulled out a chair and sat as he waited for them to join him, but Rick came back alone.

“Said he wasn’t hungry right now,” Rick sighed, crossing the linoleum and sitting in the chair next to him. Daryl wasn’t sure what to say so he just pressed his thigh into Rick’s and hoped the closeness would help to keep him grounded.

Things were quiet for a few minutes as they both polished off their first slice of a deep-dish meat lover’s. He knew it was Carl’s favorite and wondered if Rick had mentioned what kind he brought. He also kicked himself for not thinking about bringing more beer. The bottle they had seemed to settle Rick down though, but Daryl liked to think his presence helped too.

He drained the last of his bottle and sat it down on the table, the thud drawing Rick’s attention. “Think I might have some whiskey somewhere,” he offered.

“Nah, ‘m good…did ya wanna talk about it, ‘bout her?” Daryl hadn’t wanted to be the one to bring it up, and he certainly didn’t want to push, but he thought he should at least offer to lend an ear.

“She, uh, she was beautiful, dark hair, fair skin. We met in our high school chemistry class. The teacher assigned us as lab partners. I was terrible at it, but we got a B despite the fact that I set nearly every experiment on fire somehow.” Rick paused to shake his head as he laughed fondly at the memory. “She’d joke that I should become a fireman ta compensate…Guess I took the suggestion ta heart.

“An’ she was a good mother, raising Carl while I was out doin’ my job, her havin’ ta worry whether or not I’d be comin’ home…‘cept she’s the one that didn’t…Things weren’t perfect between us, we had our ups an’ downs, but I loved her, still love her. An’ for a long time, I thought I’d never feel anything again but the pain an’ the gapin’ hole she left. An’ I know I won’t ever forget her or replace her, but I think it’s okay ta try an’ move on now.”

“ ‘M sure she’d want that for ya’ll.”

“Yeah, I know she would…I’ve spent two years mourning her, blinded by grief, an’ when I finally start feeling something again, turns out it’s for some asshole who hated my guts,” Rick chuckled.

Daryl was peeling the label off his beer to give his hands something to do, but he jerked his head around at that. Rick was staring at him, his blues eyes misty and filled with more than just tears. There was sadness there, underneath, but there was also hope and maybe a pinch of amusement, and his lips curled slightly when Daryl huffed out a mirroring laugh.

“And for awhile, I thought I was just going crazy, that maybe it was some sort of coping mechanism because I had never been attracted to a man before. It threw me. I wondered if it was just because I was afraid to tarnish her memory or that I’d never find another woman that would measure up to her. But it ain’t that.”

“No?” Daryl asked, and he’d be lying if he said that possibility hadn’t crossed his mind at one point or another.

“No, it ain’t. Because I ain’t attracted ta any other man. And trust me, I’ve looked…Oh don’t look at me like that, I was just testin’ a hypothesis. Point is, it’s jus’ you. I jus’ like you. And Carl said I deserve ta be happy, an’ I kinda am around you…” Rick trailed off at that. He wasn’t sure he should go into the details of the butterflies and the racing heart so soon, especially not today of all days.

They stared at each other for a moment, but just before the silence between them stretched into too long, he heard Carl coming down the hall. His eyes were red rimmed and Daryl could tell he’d been crying, which was understandable considering the circumstances.

“Got your favorite, meat lover’s,” Daryl said as the kid made his way to the table.

Rick changed the subject to the upcoming school year and they finished off the pizza. Afterwards, they went into the living room to watch a movie. Carl suggested a Captain America movie since Daryl hadn’t seen it yet and they squeezed onto the couch. Daryl and Carl on the ends and Rick in the middle. It was the first time the three of them had spent any time alone together, and Daryl had thought it would be awkward, considering the day and everything, but it wasn’t.

When the movie finished, Carl switched the television over to South Park and Rick excused himself to use the bathroom. Okay, maybe things had started to feel a little stilted when it was just the two of them. The last time he was there, he’d fucked the boy’s dad—his boyfriend, he reminded himself—but he wasn’t really sure how Carl felt about him.

“So…” he started, but he lost his train of thought when Carl looked over at him.

“I heard you talking,” Carl said before he could continue. Daryl was half expecting Carl to tell him to get the hell out or to stay away from his dad, but he didn’t. “And he wasn’t lying when he said he was happy around you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…I watched him withering away for a long time after mom died, and sometimes it felt like I had lost them both.” Carl looked away, and for a minute, Daryl thought he was going to cry, but he took a breath and continued, “But then we moved here and it was good for us. I know he’s got a lot on his mind with the arsons and everything, but you help. I know you help. So I’m just going to say this once, if you hurt him, I will hurt you.”

“I ain’t gonna hurt ‘im kid…he kinda makes me happy too.”

Carl gave him a stern look then nodded, “Okay then.”

“An’ I’m sorry about your mom. Lost mine too when I was younger than you were.”

It was obvious that surprised Carl by the way his brows knitted together. “How?”

Then it was Daryl’s turn to look away for a moment, chewing on this thumb before turning back to answer him. “There was a fire, a house fire...”

“Is that why you became a firefighter?”

“Mhm. Got scars on my back from gettin’ trapped inside tryin’ ta get her out. A man, a firefighter, rescued me, pulled me out…but she was already gone. Spent awhile in the burn unit. I knew after that what I was supposed ta do.”

“I’m sorry about your mom too.”

“Thanks…and jus’ so ya know, it gets easier. It’ll never go away, not completely, and some days’ll be better than others, but…it’s like a scar, it is a scar, just one on the inside that ya can’t see, and it’ll heal over, close up, but it’ll always be there…y’know, if ya ever need ta talk about it, ya got my number,” he said, reaching over to ruffle Carl’s hair.

Rick returned, and the appreciating look he gave Daryl had him fairly certain that he’d been listening in. Once they were resettled, Carl asked him something about Lori and they spent the next hour or so telling Daryl all about her. He didn’t mind really, he could tell both of them cared deeply for her, and maybe there were things he needed to know about her in order to know them both better.

“I should probably go,” Daryl whispered once Carl had fallen asleep slumped against Rick.

“Thank you,” he replied, squeezing his thigh.

Daryl put his hand over Rick’s and intertwined their fingers, “For what?”

“For bein’ here, for comin’ over, for talkin’ ta Carl.”

“Weren’t nothin’.”

“Was ta me.”

Daryl grinned then leaned over to kiss him, nothing deep or lingering since Carl was right there, but just something to tide them over until next time. “Call ya tomorrow.” Then he slipped on his boots and vest, grabbed his helmet, and made for the door, turning to give Rick one last smirk on his way out. He knew they’d both be okay because they had each other. And when they needed it, they had him too.


	36. In the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The House attends a charity event, but Daryl could use a little distraction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do need to preface this chapter with an apology. I know there are a lot of you who have been waiting for the calendar shoot that I promised a few of you ages ago, and that I had been quite looking forward to writing, but I’ve decided to scrap it since someone beat me to the punch. I guess that’s what happens when you spend nearly a year on a fic and still haven’t finished it. Next time, I’ll write faster. 
> 
> Anyway, after some last minute brainstorming with lilvixen25 and MermaidSheenaz (who are both so amazing and whom we owe at least half of this fic to since they are both incredible at talking me off ledges when I want to ragequit) we came up with something a little more unique. I haven’t read this in a firefighter fic before, and I must give credit to lilvixen for the concept and thank them both for spending hours and hours musing with me on how this all would go. 
> 
> So! I dedicate this 3 chapter arch to both of them and hope you’ll all accept this as an appropriate substitution because I think it's gonna be pretty great. Enjoy!!!

“I can’t believe I let ya’ll’s dumbasses talk me into this shit,” Daryl grumbled as he climbed up the ladder. The only thing keeping him from turning back was the fact that Rick’s ass was just above him, and maybe he’d follow that anywhere.

“It’s just the pregame jitters,” Rick whispered back over his shoulder. “Told ya I have a cure for that.”

Of course, Rick hadn’t mentioned this magical cure happened to be on top of the engine. The lights were turned down in the hanger bay and the rest of the House was inside waiting for Abraham and his crew to arrive so they could head to the location as a unit. They had been inside mingling, but that was before Rick noticed how fidgety he was.

In his defense, he didn’t like being put on display, and up there, center stage with the bright lights shining down on him, he knew that’s exactly where he would be. It was for charity, but that only did so much to calm his nerves. He knew Rick was only trying to help when he told him to follow him out to the hangar bay, and that’s why he was now on top of the engine staring down at Rick who was sprawled out on a blanket teasing him as he slowly lowered his zipper.

“Best get down here if ya don’t want anyone ta see us, Darlin’.”

Okay, so maybe his cure for stage fright was theoretically sound after all. “Did ya bring lube at least?”

“Nah, guess I’ll just have ta blow ya,” Rick said, biting into his lower lip.

That got Daryl’s blood fired up. He was soon pushing Rick down on the blanket and molding himself on top of him. They fit so well like that, puzzle pieces snapping into place, but it had been three weeks since they’d spent the night together and they didn’t exactly have time to waste right now. There were a few phone calls and sexts exchanged, but things had been hectic the passed few weeks with work and Lori’s anniversary and Carl starting school and police reports for postcards.

Needless to say, they were both a little hard up and in need of release, so Daryl wasn’t going to protest if Rick wanted to suck him off. In fact, he let him roll them over pretty easily, his body pliant, but muscles taut, and every inch of him thrumming with anticipation. It was strange how fast and easy it was to give himself over to Rick, to let deft fingers wander under his shirt and dance on his skin to light up his senses, but Rick’s cure was working because all else was forgotten.

Rick unbuttoned Daryl’s jeans and pulled down his zipper, dipping fingers in to take hold of his dick as a hot mouth branded his stomach with wet open-mouthed kisses. He let his head fall back, eyes fluttering shut as Rick moved lower over his abs. Then the bastard started teasing him, soft licks on the head and slow strokes down the length of him.

“We ain’t got time for games, Asshole,” Daryl said. It came out a little more breathless and a lot less demanding than he would’ve liked.

So naturally Rick just huffed out a laugh, his warm breath breezing over the cooling saliva on Daryl’s cock. Then he was mouthing lower towards his balls to suck one in his mouth, and Daryl wanted to ask when he got so brazen, but the thought was lost in the shuffle of thoughts, drowned out by how hot this whole thing was, until they gave way to a mountain of _Oh shit!_ ’s when he heard voices down below.

“Where the hell is Daryl?” Merle bellowed as he barreled out the door.

“Thought he came outside with Rick,” Shane said.

“Well they ain’t out here.”

Daryl was so glad Rick stopped, their eyes meeting in a flash of panic.

“Call ‘em then,” Shane scoffed, his voice trailing off like he’d went back inside.

“Daryl?” Merle shouted.

He scrambled for his phone in his pocket and switched it to silent just as Merle’s number popped up with the incoming call. Rick turned his off too, and Daryl thought that would be the end of it, the killing of the mood, the blocking of the cock, but Rick just smirked at him, and then the sonofabitch winked before leaning back down and sucking him into his mouth.

Daryl had to bite into his hand to keep from screaming or moaning or maybe just ascending right into Heaven. He was hyper aware of Merle’s boots clicking on the concrete around the rig, but his brain was going haywire with the little swirls of Rick’s tongue on him, and thank god his brother was yelling his name when he came because his little whimper of “Of fuck, Rick!” could not be silenced.

When he lifted his head to glare at Rick, he was wearing a shit-eating grin and licking come off his lips. How could he be mad at him when he looked like that, cheeks a ruddy hue and curls disheveled, a glazy look in his usually clear blue eyes? He was mostly confident that Merle made it back inside by the time he was physically able to pounce on Rick, switching their positions and doing his best to get his revenge.

Rick didn’t last nearly as long as he did. A few strokes, a couple of bobs, and he was exploding on his chest and only partly in Daryl’s hand because he hadn’t been fast enough to get his mouth around the tip before Rick unleashed everything he’d been holding back in those blue balls of his.

Daryl sagged against him for a moment, them enjoying a few languid kisses before they had to get redressed. “Can’t believe ya dragged me up here for a blowjob.”

“I did it ta calm your nerves an’ from the looks of it, it worked,” Rick fired back.

“We coulda been caught. Did ya think about that?” Daryl hissed. He took a good look around the rig before he started back down the ladder. 

“Stop being so dramatic.”

After making sure they were both presentable enough, they went inside where Merle was waiting to greet them with a death stare. “Where the hell ya’ll nancies been all night?”

“We were outside waiting for ya’ll,” Daryl hollered back. He saw Eric dissolve into a fit of quiet laughter and glowered over at him. Obviously him and Aaron could tell that he’d lied, and from the smirk Michonne gave him, she knew too.

“Coulda answered yer damn phone, Darlina.”

“We don’t have time to argue, Merle, we gotta get going,” Michonne cut in. “Everyone knows who you’re riding with so let’s file out before Maggie has an aneurism from us being late. House is all yours, Woodbury.”

With that, everyone on Red and Prison shift made their way out to their cars. Daryl, Glenn, and Tara were riding with Rick since they decided to do a carpool. They had just pulled out of the driveway when Daryl started laying into Rick again. He had hoped he’d drop everything after the blowjob, but Rick sighed and rolled his eyes as Daryl started up his rant anew.

“This is all your fault, Grimes.”

“Why do ya keep sayin’ it’s my fault? The store had bad chicken. How was I supposed ta know that?”

“Your bad chicken gave the whole damn House food poisonin’ that’s how.”

“It’s not like I planned it, and besides, the calendar still got made.”

“Who in their right mind is gonna buy a damn calendar with Eugene on the cover? Eugene, Rick! Splayed out on the engine like some pinup in his tight shorts and wet t-shirt? God, I think I’m gonna throw up jus’ thinkin’ about it.”

“Come on, you guys. Eugene isn’t that bad,” Tara tried. “Right?”

“Have you seen July?” Daryl squawked. “He’s holdin’ a charged hose between his legs with his arms held out, head thrown back. It’s…I don’t even know what it is, but it ain’t right.”

“It won’t be so bad since they’re marketing it as a gag gift this year,” Glenn added.

“Do ya know how much money the calendar usually raises for fire victims? For the victims of the arsonist? Ya think Eugene’s gonna sell enough even as a gag?”

Rick cringed at that. Okay, so he unknowingly bought some bad chicken that ended up getting the whole House sick. They tried to reschedule the shoot, but things just didn’t work out. He was well aware that the money was for charity, but Maggie came up with a brilliant alternative, and if it didn’t make more money than the annual calendar, than he’d change his name to Shirley and take up tap dancing or something. He had the curly hair.

“Why are ya’ll defendin’ him? Glenn, you haven’t seen Maggie all week because she’s been organizing this event.”

“It’s for charity, Daryl.”

“An’ what about you, Tara? Do ya really want all those horny guys biddin’ on you an’ shit?”

“Doesn’t bother me,” she shrugged.

“You’re just pissed because you don’t wanna be up there on stage,” Rick said.

“That ain’t it…” Daryl huffed, which had Rick making a face at him. “It ain’t about that,” he stressed.

“Then what is it about?”

“Maybe some people don’t wanna get gawked at by bored housewives all day while they’re forced ta clean gutters and god only knows what else jus’ because they were the highest bidder.”

“It’s for charity!” Tara reminded him.

“Okay, how ‘bout this, Darlin’?” Rick said, looking over at him when they stopped at a red light. “I’ll bid on you, and you bid on me. That way I’ll be the one oglin’ ya while ya clean my _gutters._ ”

Tara and Glenn broke into laughter at that.

Daryl turned red, “Ya can’t be sayin’ shit like that Rick!”

“What? They both know about us, hell half the House knows.”

“Yeah, well Merle don’t.”

Rick didn’t care about coming out to everyone. Well, mostly everyone. He had no idea how Merle would take the news, and the times he’d asked Daryl about it, he changed the subject. Pretty soon everyone was going to know about them but him, and Rick had a feeling that it would be a lot worse for Merle to find out on his own, though he thought it was probable that he had some sort of idea, if only on some subconscious level.

But Merle was Daryl’s blood, his only family, so he’d defer judgment to Daryl. If he wasn’t ready for his brother to know about them, then he’d do his best to keep quiet about it and hope everyone else in the House did the same.

*****

The parking lot was crowded when they pulled in and the show wasn’t supposed to start for another half hour. They made their way into the backdoors to the holding area to get dressed. It was the First Annual House Twelve Firefighter Auction and the turn out was overwhelming, especially considering the last minute notice.

Maggie held the door open and handed everyone a lanyard that had numbered cards attached to them. “This’ll be the order in which ya’ll will be presented.”

Once they were all inside, and huddled around awaiting further instructions, Chief Hershel appeared from the stage area, “How’s everyone doin’ tonight?” There were murmured replies and he smiled and bobbed his head in greeting.

“Daddy, I mean Chief’s gonna be our auctioneer and MC for the evenin’,” Maggie said, too frazzled to be embarrassed by the flub. She didn’t like to draw attention to their relationship out of fear of favoritism, even though everyone knew they were both honest people.

“I know this is a little different than what we normally do for our fire disaster relief fund, but change can be a good thing. There’s a limited number of ya’ll, which means most of those people out there will be goin’ home empty handed. They came to have a good time, so be sure an’ ham it up a little, put on a good show.”

“We talkin’ Magic Mike style?” Shane asked.

Hershel furrowed his brow, “What’s a Magic Mike?”

“It’s nothin’ daddy, an’ no, not like Magic Mike. This is for charity, feel free ta shake some body parts just so long as ya keep it tasteful…and mostly covered.”

“Tasteful,” Hershel reiterated as he stared Shane down. “Maggie’s organized the whole charity auction in a matter of days, so let’s all put on a good show!”

“Okay, everyone get into your turnout gear. We got about thirty minutes till show time.”

Daryl was brooding as he pulled off his boots. Maggie said they didn’t have to wear their jackets or hats if they didn’t want to, so he left both in his bag. He put on his turnout pants and slipped into his work boots. He already had an AFD shirt on but noticed that Shane and T-dog opted to go without, and Abe was in his skintight signature undershirt. 

Maggie came around inspecting them once they were mostly dressed, “Come on, Dare, ain’t even gonna take your shirt off?”

“How many times do I gotta tell ya’ll? I ain’t here ta be ogled like a piece of meat.”

She reached up and squeezed his bicep, “Well at least roll up your sleeves and show off those arms. I know you’ve been workin’ on ‘em all summer.”

“Maggie,” he whined.

“I can help ya out, Darlin’,” Rick smirked, coming towards him opening his pocketknife.

“Hell no!”

“Come on, Darlina, show off them Dixon guns,” Merle said. “Ya do it all the time around the house.”

Daryl didn’t think it was necessary, but he had spent quite a few extra hours in the gym getting pumped. It would be a shame to keep them hidden from the public. They were paying fifteen bucks a head to get in. “Fine, but if ya end up cuttin’ me, we’re gonna have a problem, Asshole.”

Rick gave him a wink and carefully jabbed his knife into the seam at the top of one sleeve. When the hole was big enough, he slipped a few fingers in, giving them a wiggle and smirking up at Daryl as he pulled down hard to rip the fabric away. He could tell by the way Daryl was looking at him, deep blue eyes glossing over, that he very much appreciated the help. Rick would’ve said something flirty if Merle wasn’t standing so close ‘supervising’ them.

Instead, he kept his mouth shut and moved over to the other sleeve. 

“See, tha’s a lot better,” Merle said, patting him on the back when the job was done. “Now ya look presentable. Not like Grimes here, what the hell’s that on yer shirt, Rick?”

“Huh?” Rick sputtered, looking down at the sizable come stain on his t-shirt. How the hell did they miss that? “Shit, guess I spilled dinner on it.” He looked up at Daryl who was caught somewhere in between embarrassment and amusement.

“Guess you’re goin’ shirtless,” Daryl chuckled, but he soon sobered up when he realized that a room full of hot chicks were about to be ogling his boyfriend. 

Daryl had been so concerned about everyone staring at him that he hadn’t given any thought to people drooling over Rick. He knew they would, but he wanted to be the only one drooling over him. A frown tugged at his lips as he watched Rick strip. He wasn’t usually so possessive, but then again, he’d never had to watch someone he was dating get bid on by horny women either. But everyone was right; it was one night and for charity.

Once Maggie had approved of everyone’s attire, they were all ushered out on stage. It was hard to see anything with the bright spotlights, but they were being paraded around so the rowdy crowd could get a look at the goods before the actual auction part started. They would be bid on in groups of five, and while they weren’t on the auction block, they were to mingle with the crowd and solicit more donations.

The evening was intended as a bachelor auction at first, but not enough people in the House were single, so they settled on indentured servitude. The winning bidders would get their ‘prize’ in the form of six hours worth of free labor around their house, within reason. Tasks were negotiable, but Rick was pretty good with a hammer and wasn’t worried. He was just glad he wouldn’t have to go on a date with any strange women.

After the short parade, they went backstage. The first group was told to wait while everyone else grabbed a rubber boot and was told to go mingle. Rick wasn’t looking forward to that part of the evening. But he put on a smile and turned on the charm as the second and third group headed towards the door that led out onto the main floor.

They went their separate ways once they reached the crowd and set out to ask for donations. Rick didn’t have to try that hard, he was all but mobbed by women tossing one-dollar bills at him. He almost thought he was in a strip club for a minute. And it didn’t help that a few of the bills made it into his pants and not the damn boot. Not to mention the ass grabs and the perfectly manicured fingernails trailing down his chest. 

He felt a little violated, didn’t they care that he had a hot boyfriend?

The lights dimmed as Maggie strutted her way onto the stage in her turnout pants and a neon pink sports bra dancing to a mix of Rage Against the Machine’s [Sleep Now in the Fire](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3ITF4HoRZRY) the DJ was playing. She’d agreed to be the guinea pig and go first since it was her idea.

“Now let me remind ya’ll that I’m the chief of the fire department and this is my daughter you’re biddin’ on,” Hershel said before he opened the bidding.

The number of guys that turned up for the auction surprised Rick. He saw one guy receive a nice smack on the head by the woman he was with for bidding on Maggie. Rick had to laugh at that, but she ended up going for a respectable two hundred and eighteen dollars. These people weren’t playing around, and they weren’t even that drunk yet.

“Next up, we have Abraham Ford…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!


	37. Heart Eyes Motherfucker!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Auction part 2.

Abraham came out with a fire extinguisher in his hands. He pulled the pin and doused the crowd who subsequently went wild as the sodium bicarbonate powder dispersed into a white cloud above them. Rick shook his head at the spectacle, though he couldn’t help but laugh. There was no denying Abe’s flare for the dramatic. Hershel tried to quiet the crowd so he could start the bidding, but Abe kept on dancing and the DJ kept spinning _Danger! High Voltage_ by Electric Six as he rolled his hips.

For a guy his size, he was surprisingly graceful.

He ended his little show by ripping off his tank top, the fabric shredding with ease in his Hulk-like hands. He swung it over his head and launched it into the crowd where a few women waged a tug-of-war for it. Rick could just imagine Rosita laughing her ass off backstage.

“Can we please get back to the auction now?” Hershel asked. Abe gave him a salute and Hershel proceeded to open the bidding at fifty bucks. It shot up fast and Rick was shocked when it went above five hundred and fifty bucks. He was sure that would be the highest bid of the night. Shane was going to be pissed.

Rosita was up next, and Rick didn’t envy her at all. Abe was a pretty hard act to follow. She was in her full gear when she came out, coat buttoned up and hat tilted down over her face. When she got to the end of the catwalk, she lifted the hat and her hair cascaded down in a chocolate waterfall. She looked like she was in a shampoo commercial with the way it wafted and flew about. Then she slowly undid the buttons on her jacket, teasing skin until she flashed her neon green sports bra to the crowd.

A few women got into the bidding war, but a nerdy looking guy that kind of resembled Eugene eventually won her. Rick only noticed because he was with a group of mature women that looked to be pushing sixty, but he wasn’t one to speculate about a woman’s age.

Aaron followed Rosita, but he didn’t win over the crowd the way she or Abe had done. He still fetched a damn good price of three hundred and ninety-one dollars considering his lack of stage presence. Eric had bid on him for a while, but he thought that was because the few guys that were in the crowd were dominating the bidding and it was his way of marking his territory. A pretty blonde woman ended up winning him. Poor thing had no idea what she was getting into.

Someone pinched Rick’s ass and he spun around lightning fast, an ill prepared reprimand perched on his tongue. But it was Daryl behind him, a huge ass smirk on his face. He wanted to kiss him, but they were selling an image and he didn’t think that would go over too well.

“Tired of gettin’ groped too, huh?” Daryl asked.

“Don’t want my boyfriend gettin’ jealous.”

“Yeah, well I have a feeling Shane’s behind the extra grabby hands,” Daryl scoffed, motioning over to where Shane was letting women stuff bills into his pants. “Overheard him sendin’ some girls your way.”

“Guess he’s tryin’ ta play wingman,” Rick snickered. “You takin’ pictures?” he added when he noticed Daryl had his phone pointed at Shane.

“The man’s goin’ down for the ones he took of us, Rick. The dickhead put it on a cake, in case ya forgot.”

He bumped his shoulder into Daryl’s, “Nah, it’s my lockscreen.”

Daryl rolled his eyes. “Could ya be anymore obvious?” The lights flashed on stage announcing the next person. “Hey can ya gouge my eyes out, babe? ‘M not sure they can take watching Eugene struttin’ _his stuff._ ”

“Daryl Dixon? Did you jus’ use a pet name on me?”

“Fuck you!” he spat as he stormed off.

“Maybe later,” Rick called after him. He was glad the lights were low so no one could see the hearts in his eyes.

It was about time for him to make his way towards the stage area, but he was morbidly curious as to how things would go with Eugene. Of course, the weird shimmy he started doing when he came out had Rick rethinking that plan.

“Okay folks,” Hershel said. “Le’s just remember this is for charity...how ‘bout we start the biddin’ at twenty bucks.” After a few rounds of bids, Hershel sounded just as surprised as Rick was when Eugene went for a respectable one hundred and eighty-three dollars, but that was to someone in the group of old women that Rick was starting to suspect were Eugene’s family. “Alright, we’re gonna have a short intermission before commencing with our second batch of firefighters.”

This was Rick’s cue to make his way backstage. The crowd had started dancing when the DJ turned on the music and several women were trying to grind on him. He smiled as politely as he could and pushed through. T-Dog followed him back, and they joined Glenn and Tara who were both getting ready.

“Who wants to make a bet I make more than Abe?” Shane asked as he strutted it. He had his turnout pants on and a jacket that was unbuttoned revealing his bare chest.

Glenn smirked and shook his head. “Andrea’s gonna kill you with the way you’re carrying on.”

“What she don’t know won’t hurt her.”

“T-Dog, you’re up first,” Maggie said, suddenly appearing out of nowhere to do her last minute inspection.

They wouldn’t be able to see the stage, but they could hear Hershel announcing him. Rick couldn’t make out the final bid, though he thought it was in the five hundreds. Then Maggie gave Glenn a kiss and pushed him through the curtain. The bidding started to jumble together at that point. He was more concerned with why Daryl had found his way backstage…and why he was coming at him with a bottle of oil.

“What’s that?” Rick ask, wary eyes fluttering back and forth between the bottle and Daryl’s eyes.

He quirked one side of his lips. “Maggie wants me ta slick you up.”

“Yeah, the ladies’ll love it,” Shane added with a slap on his bare back.

“I really don’t think that’s necessary,” Rick protested, but he was starting to feel like an injured fish being circled by sharks. “Maggie?” he whined.

“Jus’ do it, Rick,” she said in a harsh whisper before grabbing Tara’s wrist and pulling her over to the curtain. She assisted her in taking off her shirt to reveal a neon orange bra. Shane’s brain must’ve short circuited at the scene, but not Daryl’s because Rick shuddered when cool liquid began to run down from his shoulders.

“Might have ta get us some of this,” Daryl purred in his ear, hearty hands falling down his back. He’d just had a blowjob an hour ago, but he was glad Carl was at Carol’s because they were going to have to fuck before the night was over. Either that or he was going to die.

Tara and Glenn both sold for around four fifty, which seemed to be the average for the night. He wasn’t surprised and hoped he went for at least that much. But he’d have to wait for Shane who was up next. He must’ve done something to wind up the crowd because Rick could hear them over the music.

“All right, I’m gonna go back outside so I can bet on ya,” Daryl said with another pinch on his ass.

“Would ya stop it? It’s bad enough ya’ll made me flammable.”

“What’s a matter, Asshole? It’s not like an arsonist is after ya,” he teased.

“Oh, ha. Ha.”

“It’s not like they’re gonna be in the crowd or anything,” Glenn said.

Rick appreciated that he was trying to be comforting, but Shane had to add, “Ya never know, they just might,” as they passed.

“You’re fine, Rick,” Maggie smiled. “You’re up.”

He took a deep breath and stepped out on stage.

The lights were bright, which made it hard to make out the crowd, and the bass was so loud he could feel the beat of the music pounding in his chest. He was never much for the club scene, but that’s pretty much what it was. His two left feet made his dancing a little awkward, though he did his best. It was for charity after all.

“Here we have Rick. He’s a single father and works as a repairman when he’s not savin’ cats from trees. I think we’ll open the biddin’ at two hundred dollars.”

He tried his best to keep tabs on who was bidding for him. Every once in awhile, he’d hear Daryl, but there were several other voices in the running and he was shocked when it inched up past six hundred.

“Six twenty-five,” said a familiar feminine voice and he squinted into the horde of bodies. His brow furrowed when he made out the shape of his neighbor Jessie with none other than her husband, Pete, at her side.

Okay.

They had given off a pretty weird vibe since he’d moved into his apartment, but bidding on him was just fucking creepy. He was already their handyman; they didn’t need any repairs done around their house. What Shane had said about the arsonist kept floating through his head, but that was a strong assumption to make. The most obvious explanation was that they were just trying to support a friend and their local fire department.

“Six fifty!” Daryl said, holding up his little paddle. It probably wasn’t proper etiquette for him to be bidding on his boyfriend, but he really didn’t give a fuck. Those piranhas were not taking Rick from him.

“That’s a lotta money, baby brother,” Merle said from beside him.

“Ain’t that much.”

“Whatcha gonna make ‘im do? Dress up like a French maid and clean yer apartment?”

Daryl would contemplate why that image made his dick twitch _after_ he saved Rick from the woman who wouldn’t stop outbidding him. She turned around and glared at him, and that’s when he realized she was the same chick from the elevator. He was not a fan.

“Seven seventy-five!” he finally yelled, too tired to play along with her shit.

“Sold!” Hershel hollered back, slamming down his gavel, and he was happy the old man was done with her shit too. “Well, that’s our highest bid of the night. We’re gonna take one more intermission and be back with our final five firefighters.”

Shane wasn’t happy judging by the scowl on his face when Daryl made it to the stage door. “What the hell was that?”

“That chick wouldn’t yield,” he shrugged as he dodged around him.

“We ain’t supposed to bid on each other.”

“You’re just mad he knocked your bid into second place,” Michonne singsonged.

Daryl ignored him as he fumed about him breaking the rules. “He’s gonna be more pissed when he gets home.”

Michonne took off her turnout jacket and readjusted her suspenders. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“I might’ve sent some photos to Andrea.”

Her smile went supernova. “You didn’t?”

“Payback’s a bitch.”

She chuckled and made her way over to Maggie since she would be the next auction. Daryl joined Rick and Morgan who were discussing how old they felt compared to all the drunken twenty-somethings in the crowd. Maggie hissed at them to be quiet when Michonne’s auction started.

“I’ll just be lucky to beat Eugene’s bid,” Morgan chuckled.

“People get more desperate at the end of an auction. We’ll probably all go for a good price,” Eric assured them as he and Sasha approached them.

“And how would you know?” Daryl asked.

“Oh sweetie, I’ve been sold quite a few times in my day,” Eric winked. “The question is, are you going home with the muscled up hunk who you’ve been making eyes at all night, or will the sixty year old drag queen swoop in at the last minute and claim your ass for her trophy wall.”

“Better not let any drag queens swoop in, Asshole,” Daryl whispered to Rick.

“I’ll try, Darlin’, but I ain’t made a’ money.”

That was the truth. After all, he was a single father.

“I couldn’t tell who bought me,” Michonne said, her eyes narrowing, “but I know it wasn’t my boyfriend.”

“I’m goin’ back out there. Do ya want me to give him a message?” Rick asked.

“Yeah, tell ‘em he can blow himself tonight.”

“I really didn’t need to hear that,” Daryl cringed.

Rick laughed and got reprimanded from Maggie for being too loud as the music dwindled down on Sasha’s auction. She stomped her foot and pointed towards the door, but he was already walking that way.

Morgan’s auction had started by the time he made it back into the crowd. He found Merle at a table nursing a beer. “Michonne told me to tell you that ya ain’t gettin’ laid tonight.”

“Ah fuck…oh well, she’ll understand when I tell her I was hidin’ from Eugene’s Nana. Apparently she’s got a thang for my Grade A Dixon ass.”

Rick laughed to hide his horror. They were both surprised when Morgan went for six hundred and seventeen dollars, but Eric must’ve been right about bids rising the closer they got to the end. “How much did Michonne go for?”

“I don’t know, like seven hundred. I was holed up in the bathroom…oh god, there she is again!”

Rick rolled his eyes as Merle slid off his chair so he could crawl under the table. He did his best not to draw attention to himself, but Eugene spotted him and made his way over.

“Rick Grimes, I would like to bestow upon you the honor of making your acquaintance with my esteemed and highly affluent paternal grandmother, Eugenie Mauve Porter. Also, she makes the best banana bread in town. You may call her Nana,” Eugene said when they reached the table.

“I, uh, it’s lovely to meet you,” Rick said as he held out his hand for her to shake.

She looked him over like one would when inspecting cattle. “It’s a shame you’ve already been bought.”

“Pardon?”

“Is the captain around? She would like an audience with him?” Eugene interrupted.

“I can’t say I’ve seen him.”

“Maybe I’ll buy the next one,” Eugenie said as she turned and sashayed away. “Come along, Hugene.”

“Yes, Nana. Rick, can you inform the captain that she would like to discuss the purchase of the calendar surplus?”

“Uh…sure.”

“She’s rich,” Eugene shrugged before following after.

“Did he jus’ say she’s rich?” Merle asked as his head popped up from under the table. He took off after her mumbling something about being tired of the boxes taking up space in the storage room.

Eric was the next auction, and the crowd ate him up. He shook his ass and dance all over the stage like he owned it. He went for eight hundred and thirty-seven dollars. Sure enough, it was Eugene’s Nana who bought him. Aaron had tried to keep up with her for a while, but he must not’ve had the dough.

His stomach started to churn with the possibility that he wouldn’t be able to afford Daryl. But he was going to try.

“ ‘M sad ta say that we’ve come to our last auction,” Hershel said. The crowed started to boo. “But we’ve saved one of our best for last. Please welcome Daryl to the stage.” The girls went wild and Rick knew he was going to lose.

“Are you going to try to win him?” Aaron asked, joining him at the table.

He watched as Daryl walked out on stage with his trademark scowl. The women must’ve been into brooding men because the crowd dissolved into a loud roar of catcalling and yells for him to take off his shirt.

“I’m gonna try.”

“Since I lost Eric, I could float you a few hundred if that’d help. This crowd is kind of crazy.”

“Thanks, I’d appreciate it,” Rick said. He decided to “be the drag queen” and withheld his bidding until the price got up into the six hundreds. Then he dove in. “Six twenty-five.”

“Six fifty!” yelled a blonde right in front of him. She turned around, and he was slightly horrified to see Beth staring him down.

Before he could say anything to her, they were outbid…by Eugenie.

“Hell no. Seven hundred!”

“Seven twenty-five,” Beth countered.

“Seven fifty,” someone said, and he swore it was Merle.

“Eight hundred!” Rick yelled. He was not going to lose his boyfriend.

“Eight hundred and one,” Beth said. She must’ve been running out of money.

“Eight fifty.”

“Nine hundred!” Eugenie said.

“I don’t have anymore money,” Rick said to Aaron. “I have to send my kid to college.”

“A thousand dollars!”

“Sold, for one thousand dollars to…Merle?” Hershel said. The energy in the room started to dissipate from the smothering anticipation of the auctions. “We’ve raised over eighteen thousand dollars this evening, and on behalf of all the firefighters of this great city, I want ta thank ya’ll for comin’ out and supportin’ us tonight. This money’ll go right back into our community.”

The chief went on to tell everyone to dance and drink up since all proceeds from alcohol sales went to the fire department but ended on a reminder not to drive drunk. They were still getting donations—most likely from everyone how lost out on an auction—and Shane was still shaking his ass in exchange for dollar bills getting stuffed in his pants.

“Why’d ya stop biddin’, Rick?” Daryl asked, waving off some girl who wanted to dance with him.

“I’m sorry, Darlin’, but I kinda need to put my kid through college.”

“Do ya have any idea how embarrassin’ it is to have your own brother win ya?” he groaned.

“It was either that or Eugene’s grandma,” Merle huffed as he joining them.

“Would a’ preferred her.”

“Nah, she smelled like cough drops and cobwebs. Thought Beth was gonna win ya for a second,” Merle said, elbowing Daryl in the side. “But then Rick had ta go an’ drive up the price.”

“Would a’ preferred him to you too.”

“Darlina, ya know he would a’ put ya in a dress or somethin’. Was jus’ doin’ you a solid.”

“Whatever,” Daryl scoffed, pushing himself away from the table so he could stalk off.

“Really, Aaron? You let—” Eric groused, but Rick didn’t hear the rest of what he said because his feet were already moving, his body following the hypnotizing trail Daryl’s hips left for him when he shimmied into the restroom. He was pretty sure someone called his name, but he was far more interested in how it was going to sound echoing off the metal walls of a bathroom stall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who left comments on the last chapter. Forgive me if I don't reply to them.


	38. Peeping Pete

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bathroom smut and hangovers.

Daryl was leaning against the far wall when Rick entered the restroom. He had one foot propped up on the brick, knee bent and jetting out, and both arms crossed over his chest. Rick dodged someone heading out and sauntered up to his prickly boyfriend. Daryl groaned his protested when he slipped his arms around his back, but he moved into him and away from the wall, which Rick considered a victory.

“Gonna get caught,” Daryl rasped as he tilted his head so Rick would have better access.  
He kissed Daryl’s neck before he gave the sensitive skin a little suck. It was salty and earthy under his tongue as he traced a line up his jugular. He had to smile when Daryl trembled against him after he nibbled his earlobe.

“Don’t really care about that,” he whispered, his hands falling down Daryl’s back to squeeze his ass. He backed them up into the nearest stall where they engaged in some awkward maneuvering in order to get the door shut, but as soon as the latched was fastened Daryl crowded him up against it.

Rick’s cock was swelling between them, but their pants were too thick for him to feel Daryl. It was a shame really, because he liked knowing he had the same effect on him, though the way his thickening pupils swallowed up his denim blue irises offered him a nugget of satisfaction. They were being consumed just like he was every time Daryl’s body was on him, and he hoped that never changed.

Daryl made him feel things, heady things that sent tendrils spiraling inward as they burrowed deep inside him, things he never thought he’d feel again, and some he had never wanted to, but he couldn’t help himself. Daryl brought him back from depths he never thought he’d recover from, and maybe that’s why he craved him like a narcotic. Maybe that’s how he’d fallen in love with him.

That realization shouldn’t have hit him in the fucking men’s room of a musty club, but things with Daryl never quite made sense, which kind of made perfect sense. And that’s probably the only reason he didn’t go running out the door when the L word popped into his head. But he couldn’t be the one to say it first. Maybe that was him being a coward, but he was okay with that. He didn’t want to spooking him, the first good thing he’d found after living in his own personal hell for the past two years. The risk was just too high.

“Guess ya didn’t get enough a’ me earlier,” Daryl breathed, his fingers falling down Rick’s bare chest to start in on his pants.

“Never.”

He raked his nails over Daryl’s scalp and pulled him in to suffocate the moan that escaped. Daryl had to return the favor when his warm hand closed around Rick’s turgid length. He didn’t pump him, just gave a few gentle squeezes as his cock pulsated, the thunderous beat matching the bass rumbling in from the dance floor.

“Want me ta blow ya again?” Daryl asked.

As much as he loved the imagine of Daryl on his knees in front of him as he watched his plump, petal soft lips devour him, that wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind. Besides, he was sure the floor was filthy, and if he had to reciprocate, on a men’s room floor wasn’t high on his list of places he wanted to kneel.

“Gonna need more than that. I jus’ had ta watch _Beth_ bid on ya.”

“Damn, I thought that was her, but at least your sorry ass didn’t get bought by your fuckin’ brother,” he huffed, his brow pinching into a scowl.

“You’re right, Darlin’. Ya bought my ass far an’ square,” he replied as he toyed with the hair at the nape of Daryl’s neck. He gave him a sweet grin before his voice dipped into his bedroom timbre. “Now wha’cha gonna do with it?”

“Here? You sure?”

“I saw ya pocket the rest of the oil…an’ Maggie did say for you to slick me up.”  
Daryl’s low chuckle was accompanied by a slow drag of his hand down Rick’s dick. “It’d be rude to disobey.”

He dug the bottle out of his pocket as Rick spun around. It wasn’t lube, but it’d do. By the time he’d popped the cap off, Rick had already dropped his pants and boxer briefs, his pale ass almost glowing in the soft lighting overhead. He wouldn’t have guessed Rick was into public sex, but he’d gladly start carrying lube around if that was going to be the case.

Rick bowed his back, ass sticking out in what Daryl liked to think was offering. He oiled up a few fingers and ran one down the crease of his ass to his eager hole. He had to bite into his lip when Rick’s breath stuttered, a little whimper of what might’ve been his name lost in the thumping music. Rick always looked so incredible when he was fingering him. That was his favorite part and he was missing it. 

They were still getting used to everything, but it was like every time was the first time. Things were new and exciting and different, but part of the fun was experimenting and trying new positions. Though he was now rather confident that he could find Rick’s prostate without too much exploration.

He flattened his body against Rick’s back as much as he could so he could kiss him while he stretched him opened. When Rick was nice and loose, he pressed a finger into that magical spot and listened to the melodic curses pour from his lips, ass clenching around him before Rick relaxed and laid his head back on his shoulder. 

“Hurry up! ‘M dying,” he whined, rocking his hips back onto Daryl’s fingers. He’d had enough playing games; he needed Daryl’s cock in him before his body burned away.

Daryl withdrew his fingers and started to slick himself up. “Christ, you’re so impatient.”

“I can’t help it, okay? I’ve spent all night watchin’ girls drool all over ya, and at the end of the night, I can’t even afford ta buy ya.”

“You jealous, Rick?”

“Hell yes, I’m jealous. Aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I kinda wanted to kick your neighbor’s ass,” Daryl chuckled.

“Can we please stop talkin’ about my crazy neighbors who may or may not be stalkin’ me? I kinda got other things on my mind right now.”

Daryl ran a finger down his spine just to hear the hitch in his breath. “Like what?”

“Like how much I need ya fuckin’ me.”

“See, so impatient.”

“Daryl.”

“Fine.”

“Fuck,” Rick whimpered as Daryl slid into him, the dull ache of being stretched now a welcome feeling, one he almost couldn’t get enough of. He threw an arm back around Daryl’s neck and brought their mouths together. They kissed for a moment then Daryl pulled away and pulled back before driving his hips into him again.

It was hard and slow at first, Rick’s palms pressed flat against the cool metal door, but their rhythm increased in speed with every forward plunge until he was pretty sure the whole stall was shaking around them. Daryl had an arm flung across his chest, and the other hand on his hip as he pistoned into him, ten fingers digging into his skin to keep them from slipping off his oiled body.

Daryl thought he heard the door squeak open, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. Anyone who walked in would’ve known what was happening in that stall, and he loved it. Shit, it could’ve been Merle for fuck’s sake, and he still wouldn’t have been able to stop. They weren’t exactly being subtle either. Rick was kind of loud when they fucked, though, and he loved that too.

“Wait, wait,” Rick panted, tapping on his arm.

“What? Did I hurt ya?” Daryl whispered. 

“No, stop askin’ me that,” he snickered. “Jus’…hold on.” He turned around and kicked off one of his boots so he could pull his foot out of his pants. “Wanna see ya.”

Daryl grinned and picked him up so Rick could wrap those lithe bowlegs around his waist. Once they were resituated, he leaned Rick back against the door and did his best to fuck into him while he supported most of his weight, though Rick did help by reaching up and grabbing the top of the door. He was glad he spent all that extra time in the gym strengthening his arms.

“You’re fuckin’ heavy.”

“Jus’…fuck…me!” Rick demanded, following it up with a few _Yes, Daryl_ ’s and _Oh god_ ’s.

But the position had Daryl pretty tuckered out after a few minutes.

Rick must’ve been getting close too because he let go of the stall and started to jack himself off. He might’ve looked even better doing that than he did when Daryl was opening him up—glistening sweat forming on his chest and his head thrown back in rapture. Daryl wanted to suck on his neck, wanted to sink teeth into his skin and mark him, but Rick was too far way, his body arched as perfectly as Roman architecture. He’d just have to fucking wait.

But when Rick said harder, he bumped it up into overdrive.

His legs were shaky and his body was running on fumes after their busy night, but how many times would he be able to have Rick like this, with four hundred other people right outside? It was thrilling. The whole night was: watching him on stage, outbidding every other person in the crowd for him, rubbing oil all over his chest, having to watch women hanging all over him all night. He’d been jealous too, but none of them got to have this; they’d _never_ have him like this.

Rick’s body spasmed around him as he came, white ribbons adorning his stomach, and Daryl let it all go. He closed his eyes and let his orgasm overtake him; the tension, the pressure, and the jealousy, he let it all just float the fuck away. He’d never felt so free, so fucking satisfied in all his life. And maybe it was the excitement of it all, the exhibition element, and the fear of getting caught, but deep down he had another suspicion, one that centered around a four-letter word he was not ready to acknowledge just yet.

So he didn’t.

They took their time wiping each other down with cheap toilet paper and straightening their clothes. But of course they wished they would’ve taken even longer when Rick swung the door open only to come face to face with Peeping Pete. The guy did like to take pictures. Of Rick.

“Hey…I was just waiting for the…” he nodded behind them, “stall…anxious urinator.” First of all, that was way too much information, and second of all…Pete’s creep factor rocketed up a couple thousand points when Rick realized that the other stall was completely free. “So you two are…”

“He’s, uh…my boyfriend,” Rick said as he rocked on the balls of his feet. Pete was kind of blocking the way, and Rick had to sidestep him to get to the sink so he could wash his hands.

“Oh, yeah, that’s cool.”

“Stalls free,” Daryl interjected, grabbing Rick’s hand and pulling him towards the exit.

“Maybe we can double date sometime,” Pete called after them, and all Rick could do was wave and flash him the fakest smile in the history of smiles. He hoped to god Pete hadn’t snapped any pictures. He didn’t remember seeing any flashes of light, except when he reached his climax, but he was sure that was unrelated.

“Yeah, that’s never gonna happen,” Daryl whispered right before he opened the door.

The crowd hadn’t thinned much, but the dancing was noticeably less coordinated than it had been. They heard a few whistles and catcalls as they pushed through the rowdy crowd of mostly drunken women who were pawing at them as they passed. One chick tried to kiss Rick, but Daryl intercepted him and dragged him towards to the table they’d claimed earlier. 

“Where ya’ll lovebirds been?” Merle cackled when they approached. “We was just about ta have us a toast.”

“Looks like we made it just in time, Merle,” Rick said, grabbing a shot glass off the tray in front of him.

“Guess so...All right everybody raise yer glasses so we can toast a job well done. We raised a shitload a’ money tonight thanks ta Maggie’s hard work, and now it’s time ta enjoy ourselves. Cheers!”

“Cheers,” they all yelled before downing their shots.

“Now le’s dance!” Maggie hollered.

Daryl wasn’t one for dancing, but Michonne forced him onto the dance floor. She was still mad at Merle for not winning her and refused to dance with him. Rick got dragged out by Sasha, and after a few more shots, they were all having a good time. They didn’t dance together, but Daryl kept his eye on Rick. He glared a warning to a few women who danced up against him, but they were probably too drunk to notice.

***

It was almost three a.m. when they got back to the firehouse. Most of Red shift had left the club at a respectable hour since they had to work later that day. Woodbury shift—though they now preferred to be called Blue Shift after Philip wnt MIA—had just gotten back from a call and were happy to listen to their drunken rambles for awhile. There shift was going join House Sixteen’s auction another night.

Everyone had a tale about Eugene’s grandmother. She was kind of scary and Rick was pretty sure she had mafia connections. At one point, she’d proportioned Merle about taking the surplus Eugene calendars off his hands. As intrigued as he might’ve been by the idea of getting a blowjob by a woman who didn’t have teeth, he turned that down real quick. It was bad enough Michonne wouldn’t speak to him after the auction.

Eugenie ended up buying all the calendars anyway. 

All in all, it was a good night. 

The next morning: not so much. 

Rick was startled awake by a loud crash. His whole body protested when he jolted to his feet. It only took a moment to realize where he was. From the kink in his neck and Merle’s howling laugh, it wasn’t hard to figure he must’ve fallen asleep on that damn couch again. But when the world stopped spinning after he turned around, he saw Daryl and Glenn both sitting on the couch, cursing and holding their ears.

Damn. He hoped the photos weren’t too incriminating this time.

“Wake up, sleepyheads. Got some work for ya’ll ta do,” Merle said, walking back to the kitchen to put the pots he’d been banging together away. Rick’s head appreciated it.

“Can I get some aspirin first?” Daryl muttered, rubbing his eyes.

“Ya got five minutes before Eugenie’ll be here. Then ya’ll are gonna load up those calendars for her.”

“Why can’t you do it?” Rick asked.

“He’ll be hiding from the big scary grandma,” Michonne said as she walked in carrying a box of donuts, and Rick’s mouth watered at the same time his stomach lurched. 

“ ‘Scuse me,” Glenn managed before he bolted for the bathroom.

“Aww, ain’t one a’ ya’ll gonna go hold his hair back for ‘im?”

Daryl ignored him and walked to the kitchen, Rick following along on his heels. They grabbed a donut and started nursing some coffee as the house awakened. They chatted with Michonne and Martinez for a few minutes, and Daryl tried not to wonder if someone should go and check on Glenn. He decided against it. Maggie would be there soon, and he’d send her after him.

“Damn, Probie, you look like shit,” Martinez chuckled when Glenn rounded the corner. 

Glenn’s response came in the form of his middle finger.

Daryl shoved the coffee he’d already made for him in his face. “Drink this.”

Rick was able to choke down another donut before Abraham arrived with news that Eugenie was outside waiting for her calendars. He said something about them being donated to the local animal shelter to be used to line cages, but Rick’s brain wasn’t able to discern whether or not he was telling the truth. He really didn’t care as long as he didn’t have to look at them. He did feel for the animals though.

The boxes were in a storage closet and it took four trips to get them all loaded up. Eugenie pinched Daryl’s ass when he was done and slipped them both her number in case they needed _“anything.”_ He felt dirty afterwards but he was just glad she didn’t try to slip them any tongue.

“Eugene, your grandma’s a freak,” Daryl said when they passed him in the stairwell. 

“A fact I am well aware of, thank you,” he replied.

“She felt me up,” Daryl squealed.

“Probably the most action you’ve seen in awhile,” Merle snickered. He was leaning against the kitchen counter stuffing his face with a crawler.

“Fuck off.”

“Better than jackin’ off.”

“ ‘M outta here,” Daryl huffed, storming out after he grabbed his helmet and keys he’d laid by the couch. He was too hungover to deal with Merle’s shit.

Rick caught up with him halfway down the stairs. “We haven’t finished the closet yet.”

Merle had told them to straighten up once they were done moving the boxes for Eugenie. Daryl argued that they weren’t even working that day, but his reply was that if they were sleeping on the couch, they had to earn their rent. He knew that if they didn’t, Merle would give him hell about it for the next three months.

“I’ll take care of it. You can head home,” Daryl said. He knew he wasn’t as hungover as Rick was, and there wasn’t that much to do. He also needed a little time to work out what the hell happened in the club restroom. Not the sex part, but the whole _warm feeling in his chest_ that came after. 

“Well, I was hopin’ we could go grab some breakfast. The Waffle House, maybe?”

Daryl sighed and put his helmet on a shelf in the closet, but before he could reply, Rick had shut the door and was sucking on his bottom lip. 

Rick quirked a brow and flashed him a dark grin. “Besides, I haven’t suck ya off in here yet.”

Oh well...he could think later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god, I don't know how Pete got so fucking creepy!!


	39. Surprise Bitch!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merle gets a few surprises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hot damn, what do we have here?
> 
> Mucho, mucho thanks to MermaidSheenaz, Tiofrean, Sorran, Lilvixen25, Superblackmarket, and Rickyllover for their undying love and support, and to everyone who's commented on how much this story means to them. This year has been a rollercoaster for me, and this fic's fate has been up in the air so many times, but this has truly been my "coming of age" fic as a writer, and I think it's high time we finish the damn thing!
> 
>  
> 
> **TW for homophobic language (oops, I almost forgot)

Merle hadn’t gotten drunk enough last night to have to deal with this shit today. A hangover would’ve been preferential, if he were being honest. Maybe that way he could’ve forgotten most of auction…and most of the morning.

He had only gotten three hours of sleep thanks to Michonne making him sleep on his own goddamn couch. In his own goddamn house! Then she’d rushed him out the door this morning saying how she needed to get back to the House to pick up her car. Of course, she also insisted they stop for donuts. The jury was still out on whether or not he was mad about that.

When he got to the firehouse, he remembered that Eugenie had said she was coming by to pick up those god-awful calendars at eight, and for once, he was glad to see Daryl, Rick, Glenn snoozing away on the couch. If they wanted to treat _his_ Firehouse like a hotel, he’d make damn sure they earned their keep.

He’d admit that he was afraid the ol’ bag would proposition him again if he showed his face. At one point during the auction, she asked how much a night with him would cost her. He thought she was joking, but then she pulled out her checkbook. What kind of dinosaur still carried around a checkbook? And he wasn’t surprised to hear later on that day that she’d felt Daryl up too. Because Dixon men were virile and quite irresistible.

After he ran them off to unload the calendars, he stuffed his face with a crawler AND a donut. Because he earned it dammit! The coffee was weak, Martinez must’ve made it, and he needed to find some aspirin for his headache. But on his way down to his office, he passed the supply closet. And what did he hear? A couple of dumbasses moaning and banging around inside.

Well, he was tired of his firefighters using the damn house like it was a brothel, so he decided he was going to teach those idiots a lesson. It was probably Glenn and Maggie. They had a propensity for clandestine meetings in dark closets. One time he even found them in one of the rigs—weren’t a speck of yellow on that Korean’s ass—but he tried his best to block out that memory.

Merle unclipped the radio around his belt. “Hey, Abe?”

“Yeah, boss?” Abraham replied.

“Can ya hit the alarm? Wanna run a drill.”

“Sure thing.”

They ran random drills all the time, so it wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary. He crossed his arms over his chest as Michonne approached him. “I’m leavin’,” she said, but he had his eyes focused on the door. “Glenn and Maggie?”

“Prolly,” he said with a sigh.

“So it’s okay for us to fool around in your office, but no one else?”

“Perks a’ bein’ the boss,” he smirked. “Abe’s about ta pull the alarm.”

“Running a drill?” Glenn asked from down the hall, and both of them turn their heads to see he and Maggie ambling towards them.

“Sooo…not Glenn and Maggie,” Michonne snickered. “This’ll be interesting.”

***

“Would you be quiet, Rick? You’re so fuckin’ loud. Someone’s gonna hear,” Daryl hissed before sucking Rick’s dick back into his mouth.

Rick was loud in bed. He knew that, Daryl knew that, but his brain really didn’t give a fuck. He’d just given his boyfriend a blowjob, which was now being returned, and…well, the rest of him really didn’t give a fuck either. It was like his body was going through some sort of Great Awakening after being dormant for two years and he wanted to feel _everything._

And what he was feeling right now, with Daryl’s wet lips dragging down the length of his cock, the shelf poking into his back, and the hand palming his balls, was way too good to bottle up by biting his tongue. He did bite into his lip a little when Daryl went so far down he nearly choked himself—they were still learning—the spasm causing him to shoot his load all over Daryl’s face when he pulled off. It was an accident, but it was so fucking hot that they’d be doing that again.

“What the fuck, Rick?”

“ ‘M sorry, it jus’ happened,” Rick insisted.

Daryl stood up as he reached for a roll of paper towels to wipe the come off his face. “Christ, did ya get _any_ in my mouth?”

“You’re complainin’ that ya didn’t have ta swallow?”

Okay, he had a fair point. But before Daryl could tell him to “shut the fuck up,” the alarm started blaring. “Shit!”

Rick scrambled to fasten his jeans and straighten his clothes as Daryl reached for the door with one hand and scrubbed his face one more time with the other. He yanked it open to find a group of people gathered around the door, all their faces blurred but Merle’s. His brother looked annoyed as hell, and Daryl knew it was about to get _a lot_ worse.

He’d been blocking Rick from view, but then Rick crashed into his back, lanky arms wrapping around Daryl to catch his balance, as they stumbled across the threshold. Some people looked shocked, others snickering, but Merle’s eyes went wide in horror. Daryl felt the blood drain from his face, which might’ve went right into Merle’s with the way it reddened.

“Merle,” Daryl tried, stepping forward and removing Rick’s hands from his hips. But Merle was already stomping toward his office. “Merle, wait,” he called as he hurried after him, leaving Rick to face the crowd alone.

“Guess ya’ll decided to come out of the closet,” Martinez teased.

“Real original,” Glenn defended.

Martinez shrugged and rolled his eyes. “Who cares, they just won me fifty bucks! Hey Abe, where’s my money?”

“Ya’ll bet on us?” Rick asked, incredulous eyes taking them in.

“Not everyone,” Maggie added. “…but I gotta go call Shane…for somethin’ _completely_ unrelated,” she said as she scurried away.

Rick pinched the bridge of his nose. The headache from his hangover was picking up like a herd of uncoordinated bulls started playing soccer in his head. He didn’t have the patience to deal with everyone’s shit. “Well show’s over. Don’t ya’ll have work ta do?”

“Yeah, but catching you and Daryl in the storage closet is so much more entertaining,” Rosita said.

Rick scoffed and shut the door behind him. “I’m jus’ gonna go and hope someone cut the brake lines on my jeep.” He left the giggling crowd and joined Michonne by the door to Merle’s office. “Where’d they go?”

She put her finger to her lips and shushed him as she leaned her ear against the door. He sighed and did the same as he tried not to think about Daryl breaking up with him. Would he do that if Merle asked him too? He knew he was falling in love with Daryl, but he had no way of knowing if Daryl felt the same. Maybe the sly looks and secret smiles should’ve tipped him off, but it just made him spiral into a black pit of self-doubt.

If Merle gave Daryl an out, would he take it?

***

“ ‘M sorry you had ta find out this way,” Daryl said for what felt like the third time. He was leaning against Merle’s desk while his brother paced in front of him. After several minutes, he was tired of waiting for Merle to explode all over him. “Would ya stop wearin’ out the damn rug an’ talk ta me? I didn’t want ya findin’ out like this.”

Merle stopped and spun to face him, his face redder than the Engine. “Findin’ out? Yer sorry ass thinks I didn’t know what was goin’ on in my own damn house?” He shook his head as his lips curled up into a snarl. “I jus’ thought my own flesh an’ blood would have enough sense not ta disrespect me like that…in front of my whole house, Daryl. What the fuck, little brother?”

“It jus’ happened, okay?” Daryl bellowed, pushing himself off the desk. “It wasn’t like I planned it this way.”

Merle stepped up to him so they were toe to toe, his voice losing the sharp edge and sinking into a terrifying timbre. “Y’know, I’ve been waitin’ for you ta come clean, been thinkin’ every time yer number showed up on my phone that you were finally ready ta tell me. Michonne said ta be patient, that ya jus’ needed time to work things out, but were ya ever gonna tell me? Cause ‘m startin’ ta think ya weren’t.”

“Well maybe I would’ve if your ugly mug had been around!” Daryl yelled, moving forward until their chests were touching.

“I have been around!”

“Oh bullshit! Ya ran off with my best friend and left me behind.”

Merle looked hurt as he took a step back. “Now that’s bullshit. We haven’t been nowhere without ya. We’re still right here. Michonne’s prolly listenin’ at the door right now.”

The anger Daryl had building up leeched right out of him. It wasn’t the only reason he hadn’t told Merle, but he’d felt disconnected from him lately. He sighed and leaned back against the desk, raising his thumbnail to his teeth. “It ain’t the same.”

“So what? Ya want me to break up with her?”

“That ain’t what I said,” he shot back defensively. “She’s good for ya and ya make her happy. Ya’ll both deserve to be happy, but did ya ever stop to think about how it’s been for me? Always feelin’ like the third wheel when we’re together instead of how it used ta be, like I was hangin’ out with my brother and my best friend? Maybe I fuckin’ miss ya okay?”

“Daryl…”

“And maybe I was afraid of what you’d say.”

“I ain’t a homophobe.”

“Yeah, ta everyone else, but you know what daddy was like. I guess I jus’ didn’t know how you’d take it. And I am sorry I didn’t man up and do it sooner.”

“We ain’t like him. I don’t care if ya get yer rocks off with a quilt or a skirt jus’ as long as yer happy too. Ya know that…well, I thought ya did…and ‘m sorry we made ya feel left out a little. It weren’t intentional.”

“I know. I jus’ miss ya’ll is all.”

“Come ‘re,” Merle said, grabbing him by the neck and pulling him into a bear hug. “Promise me ya won’t keep anythin’ like that from me again.”

“Yeah.”

“Now,” Merle let him go and stood up, “just how serious is this little fling a’ yours?”

They might not’ve been spending as much time together as they used to, but that didn’t stop Merle from being able to read whatever it was that showed up on his face.

“Ah hell…”

***

Rick didn’t start to worry about Daryl and Merle’s little powwow until things grew silent on the other side of the door. When it swung open with his and Michonne’s ears still attached, they both did a piss poor job of acting nonchalant, but before he’d regained his bearings—after a lot of awkward flailing—Daryl had already pushed passed them. He tried to go after him, but a meaty hand fell hard on his shoulder and cemented him in place.

“Not so fast there, Romeo,” Merle said low and eerily calm.

“Merle,” Michonne replied, a challenging look on her face.

“Everythang’s fine, sugar lips, but I think it’s about time me and Rick here had ourselves a talk, man ta man.”

Before Rick could protest, Merle yanked him inside and slammed the door. He didn’t think Merle would kill him…in broad daylight at least, so he had that in his favor. “Listen, Merle, I….”

Merle gave him a hard look that said “shut the hell up” and he lost his train of thought. Not that he really had one.

“Now I’m jus’ gonna ignore the part about catchin’ ya fooling ‘round in my House for a minute, and I ain’t nearly drunk enough to wonder how ya turned my brother gay, but I need ta know one thing….”

Rick swallowed around the lump in his throat and tried to rid his stomach of the feeling of someone taking a baseball bat to a hornets’ nest before releasing them inside his gut. He couldn’t tell if Merle or the hangover was to blame, but he didn’t think it mattered. He’d answer Merle’s questions because the faster he got out of there, the faster he could check on Daryl.

“What are yer intentions with my brother?”

Rick almost laughed out loud, _almost_ , but the intense gaze Merle fixed him with prevented him from it. And probably saved his life. He hadn’t prepared himself for that kind of question. He thought Merle would rage all over him when he found out, maybe threaten to fire him, maybe _actually_ fire him, but his mind hadn’t entertained the idea of him kindofsortof giving his blessing.

The last person who asked him that question was Lori’s father when he asked for her hand in marriage, but that ill-serving memory didn’t help the situation because he didn’t want to marry Daryl. Did he? Maybe someday, right? Yeah, probably, but one thing at a time. First he had to deal with his redneck boss and the angry looking vein that had started to protrude from his neck.

“Ya gonna answer me, Rick, or just stand there like an idiot, drooling all over my floor?”

“What do ya want me ta say?”

“Oh I don’t know that ya like ‘im, that ya wanna go steady,” Merle said, cackling to himself. “Or I know, how ‘bout that ya wanna make ‘im yer bitch.”

“He ain’t nobody’s bitch!”

Merle inched toward him, but he stood his ground. He leaned in, jabbing a finger into Rick’s chest, and looked him right in the eye. “Ya bes’ remember that.”

Rick relaxed when he stepped out of his personal space. “My intentions are good.”

He watched Merle’s eyes pinch into a glare. “Don’t guess I need ta explain how I’d dispose of yer body if ya break his heart.”

“Ain’t gonna do that, Merle.”

“Good, and I don’t wanna see no more public displays of gay affection ‘round here neither,” Merle said, turning around to walk over to his desk. “Already got enough fags runnin’ around, now ya gotta turn my brother into one.”

Okay, Rick might not’ve been “officially” gay, or whatever, but he knew that word was not appropriate. Especially in reference to Daryl. Maybe he should’ve left it alone, but Daryl deserved more respect from his only living relative.

“The fuck you jus’ say?”

“What? Ya prefer fudge packer? Mattress muncher? Bone smuggler?”

“Shut yer damn mouth, Merle.”

“Got loads more if ya don’t like those. Daddy was ripe with ‘em. He’s prolly smiling in hell knowin’ one of the faggots he abandoned actually turned out to be one.”

Rick must’ve still had alcohol in his system because he knew Merle was goading him on, but he couldn’t stop himself from rearing back and punching the ass hat right in the teeth. The pain didn’t register until Michonne asked him what the hell he’d just done. “What?”

“He made me thswallow my fuckin’ tooth, that’s what,” Merle said from where he sat on the floor. Blood trickled down the corner of his mouth, and Rick realized, rather belatedly, that he’d just hit his boss. And more importantly, his boyfriend’s brother. That was, if Daryl still wanted to be his boyfriend. 

“Shit, I gotta go,” Rick said, not sure what else to do. Michonne had already started fussing with Merle’s busted face, and a crowd had gathered outside his office thanks to the commotion. They parted to let him by, but everything around him looked hazy. He had to find Daryl.

***

“Merle,” Michonne said, dabbing some gauze around his mouth.

“I provoked him.”

Michonne gave him a judgmental look. “I have no doubt.”

“I had ta make sure he’d protect ‘im is all,” he tried to explain.

“Protect him what?”

“Look around ‘Chonne, we’re in the thSouth, what do ya think?” Her puzzled look had him rolling his eyes. So he leaned in and whispered, “The bigots.”

Michonne scoffed and pressed a little harder on his jaw. Merle winced and she let up just a little. “They’ll be all right. They got each other, and they got us.”

“Yeah, but now I know fer sure. He ain’t gonna let nobody meth with my baby brother. Not even me.”

“Coulda just asked him about it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now, help me up, will ya? I need to go vomit up my tooth...unleth ya wanna help me dig through my sh—”

“Shut the hell up.”

Merle sighed as he got to his feet. The clock had just hit 8:30AM, and he was all ready for the day to end. But he’d learned two things at least. One, Rick Grimes had a helluva right hook, and two…those idiots were disgustingly in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I was away, I've been accepted for publication twice! And I'm about to send in my third book for consideration. If you are interested in my original work, check out my [website](http://www.luciearcher.com), and if you just want to skip to the good part, the blurb and the amazing cover for my first book is [here.](http://www.luciearcher.com/taming-the-wyld)
> 
> <333 to all of you still reading!


	40. Python

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Daryl work things out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourself.

Daryl didn’t know where he was going when he left the firehouse, he just needed some time to clear his head. His talk with Merle had him reeling. They aired some things that needed to be talked about and he felt better about him and Michonne, but then his stupid brother had to go and ask him how he felt about Rick.

So instead of getting to keep his feelings bottled up for awhile, he knew he had to face them head on. Because Merle had realized he loved Rick and that dumbass never could sit on a secret for long.

He drove out past the city limit sign and took a few country roads before he stopped at a convenience store to fill up his tank. His phone had several missed calls and texts from Rick, Merle, and others when he checked it, but he quickly shoved it back into his pocket without replying to any of them. He deserved to have a little time to himself. Time to think.

But all he really wanted to do was stop thinking.

The ancient pump wouldn’t read his debit card so he ended up having to go inside to pay. He grabbed some jerky when he passed the display and stood in line behind two teenagers with sunburns buying cigarettes. The thought of bumming one from them crossed his mind, but he resisted. His job provided him with all the smoke he needed.

“Lady problems?” asked the old man behind the counter.

“Wha? Nah…well, kinda,” Daryl said as he sighed.

“Me an’ the missus had our fair share a’ problems in the beginnin’.”

Daryl nodded as the man rung up his purchase.

“But we make it work. Wanna know the secret?”

“Le’ me guess: love?” Daryl bit out. He wasn’t stupid enough to believe in fairy tales.

“Nah, can already tell ya love her.”

Daryl furrowed his brow and took his card back after the old man swiped it. He would never admit to the blush running up his neck. Damn, even a complete stranger could tell he was in love with Rick.

“Was gonna say ‘cause we’re both too stubborn ta walk away…but yeah, love helps.”

Daryl couldn’t help but huff out a laugh. Him and Rick were just about that stubborn. Maybe they’d be okay after all.

He picked the jerky up off the counter and tore into it. After a mumbled “Thanks,” he headed for the door, the bell jingling as he pushed it open. “Ya got any advice for dealin’ with an asshole brother?” he tossed back over his shoulder.

“He sleep with yer dame?”

Daryl shook his head, holding back his amusement at hearing Rick referred to as a dame.

“Then it could be worse.”

Well, he couldn’t argue with that.

He rode around some more until his stomach started to beg for something more substantial than jerky. He drove back into town past his apartment, past the bars he wanted to stop at, and pulled up in front of Rick’s building. He made sure he saw Rick’s jeep in his assigned spot before he cut the engine and hopped off.

Maybe he should’ve called him back first, sent him a heads up text that he wanted to come over. Merle probably read him the riot act after he stormed off, and for all he knew, Rick wanted to break up with him. Why else would he send a “We need to talk” text?

He pushed the negative thoughts down and forced himself to step onto the elevator. Worse case scenarios usually never happened anyway. Right?

He knocked on Rick’s door and bit his lip at the thud and curse he heard coming from inside. The door opened to reveal Rick slumped over rubbing his shin, but he straightened as soon as he saw Daryl.

“Hey,” Rick said.

“Hey.”

They had an awkward staring contest that resulted in no clear winner, but thankfully Rick continued. “Did you, uh, want to come in?”

Daryl nodded and Rick moved out of the way so he could pass.

“I went by your place earlier. Did you get my texts?”

“Uh, no, I was on my bike…runnin’ errands.”

“Oh…well, I’m glad you’re here now ‘cause I think we need ta—”

Before he could finish, Daryl lunged toward him and cut off his words with an impassioned kiss. If Rick wanted to break up with him, he was damn well gonna get himself a kickass last kiss first.

He felt Rick’s hands clutching his hips and the way he kissed him back had his toes curling, but he had to pull back. Like a band-aid, he needed the whole thing over with ASAP. He hadn’t counted on Rick going with him, their momentum throwing them off balance. The next thing he knew, he’d tripped on the lamp Rick had knocked off the side table and landed on his back with Rick on top of him.

Then Rick was kissing at his neck and burrowing fingers under his shirt. His body seemed to be on board with break up sex, but he wanted to get the actual break up over with first.

“Wait, I thought we needed ta talk,” Daryl said, finding Rick’s wrists to stop him from stripping off his shirt.

“Oh… _that_.…”

Rick rolled off of him and they both sat up, silence stretching out between them and Daryl’s idiot brain doing a wonderful job of filling it with drivel. Maybe Merle had threatened to transfer one of them if they didn’t break up. Maybe Rick put in for his own transfer when Merle got onto him about fucking in the supply closet.

Or maybe he had a habit of making a mountain out of a molehill.

He side-eyed Rick when he sighed and watched him drag a hand through unruly curls. He was going to miss that. He forced his eyes away and stuck a thumb between his teeth, chewing on the tough skin as he waited for the hammer to fall.

“I punched Merle in the face,” Rick blurted out.

“What?”

Okay, that he hadn’t anticipated.

“Knocked out a tooth and everythang, but in my defense, he said some things he shouldn’t have.”

“And now you have to break up with me?” Daryl continued for him.

“What? No! If anything I thought you’d want to break up with me.”

“Why? ‘Cause ya hit my brother? ‘M sure he deserved it.” Nine times out of ten, he absolutely did.

“Yeah, but still. He’s your family.”

Daryl scoffed. “Ya really think yer the first person I dated to hit my brother?”

He felt Rick’s hand cover his, and he turned it over so they lay palm-to-palm, fingers sliding into place without a second thought. “Now that I think about it…no. But I know he was jus’ testin’ me.”

“That sounds like Merle all right. I’ll talk to ‘im. An’ I’m sure Michonne already has.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“But you thought I was gonna break up with you for _that_?”

“Well…I didn’t know how he’d react. And I thought maybe you’d hate me. I did knock yer brother’s tooth out.”

Daryl laughed and Rick nudged him with his shoulder. “Nah, I don’t hate ya, but I am mad I didn’t get to see it.”

Rick let go of his hand and stood up before picking up the lamp. He put it back on the table, and then offered Daryl help off the floor. They slipped their arms around each other and moved in close. Daryl went in for another kiss, but Rick just looked at him with a puppy dog frown plastered on his face. “You thought I wanted to break up with you?”

“The words ‘we need to talk’ don’t usually come with good news, _Rick_.”

“Damn, I screwed that up, huh? How ‘bout we have some lunch, and then I show you how much I do _not_ want ta break up with you.”

Daryl smirked, hands falling down Rick’s back to squeeze his ass. “Ya do kinda owe me now, Asshole.”

“Well Darlin’, that’s a debt I really don’t mind repayin’.”

They only made it halfway through lunch before Rick had him spread out on the table like a fucking banquet, tongue dancing over his hole like a stripper trying to make rent. And all he could think about as he came down from his orgasm, sticky come cooling on his stomach and Rick’s sweat-soaked curls tickling his chin, was that there was no way in hell he’d ever let there be a last time.

*****

Things felt awkward when they went back to work the next day. Rick walked in the firehouse and immediately got ribbed for getting caught with his pants down. He flushed and scurried through the hangar flashing his middle finger to anyone who even so much as snickered at him.

He walked down the hall past the offices. Merle’s door sat wide open as he fiddled with some papers at his desk. They’re eyes met for a fraction of a second before they both looked away. Merle muttered something under his breath, but Rick thought it best he couldn’t make it out as he thundered up the steps two at a time.

He grabbed himself a cup of coffee and one of the donuts he brought before sitting down at the kitchen counter. Shane walked in right behind him and refused to make eye contact. Rick didn’t think he was a homophobe since he got along with Aaron and Eric, but maybe he needed to get over the initial shock of it.

Rick scarfed down his donut and tried not to scald himself on his coffee, but he hadn’t seen Daryl yet, which was highly unusual. They left things on a good note the day before and even made plans to have dinner with Carl tomorrow night, but he wanted to see if Daryl and Merle had found time to talk, and whether or not he should sleep with one eye open going forward.

Not that he slept much these days with all the maniacs running wild around Atlanta.

[Rick]: Where r u?

[Daryl]: hiding

[Daryl]: if I hear another dont drop the soap joke someone else is gonna lose a tooth

Rick snickered to himself but startled when Glenn asked him what was so funny. “Nothing, Daryl’s just hidin’ ‘cause people won’t leave him alone.”

“Tell him to stop acting like a little bitch,” Michonne said as she poured almost half the container of sugar into her coffee.

“We tease ‘cause we love,” Maggie added with a wink.

“Yeah, I don’t think he’ll believe that,” Rick replied. But he suddenly understood how it felt to be on the receiving end of all the couples’ jabs. It didn’t bother him as much as he thought it would. He just hoped it wouldn’t give Daryl second thoughts. For some reason, the stakes felt higher now that everyone knew about their relationship.

[Rick]: U should probably come out now, meetings about 2 start

The crew filed downstairs a few minutes later, and Rick did his best to camouflage himself to the wall. Giving Merle a wide birth sounded like a damn good plan as did staying under the radar for a while. Things would eventually blow over…probably. He just had to wait for it. Or for someone else to screw up even worse.

Daryl sidled up beside him just as Merle walked out of his office. He hadn’t seen where he’d come from, but it didn’t matter. His heart felt lighter just knowing Daryl was there. They shared a sideways glance, Daryl’s shoulder pressing into his, and that’s all Rick needed to know, that they were in it together.

The meeting droned on. Merle went over some basic housekeeping things before descending into a rant about proper workplace etiquette that obviously didn’t include fucking in supply closets. Rick and Daryl had to ward off several pointed looks and the occasional giggle, but they made it through relatively unscathed.

Before Merle could go into greater detail about when and where not to blow your hot boyfriend, a call came in and they all rushed to the rigs. He knew they’d get more ribbing when they got back, but it kind of made him proud how professional everyone could be when it really counted.

*

Rick breathed a sigh of relief when they pulled up to a burning house to find a family of five waiting at the curb. He knew everyone thanked the Gods of Fire it didn’t appear related to the arsonist, but that didn’t mean they weren’t about to charge headlong into danger. The three children crying over their pets trapped inside pulled at his heartstrings, and he knew they’d all do their best to get them out alive.

“We got a fat beagle, a calico cat, and a few lizards still inside,” Morgan said through the radio. “Locate and rescue if possible, but don’t do anything stupid… _Daryl_.”

“Kitchen fire, started behind the fridge,” T-Dog added.

“Copy that,” Rick said as Shane helped him slip on his O2 tank. He turned around and returned the favor. “Thanks.”

Shane finally looked him in the eye as he nodded, and Rick knew he’d have his back in there like always.

The fire had stayed mostly contained to the kitchen, but smoke billowed out as soon as they opened the front door. Rick found the beagle trying to climb up the baby gate in the living room, but it took a little convincing from Daryl to get the cat out from under the couch. They handed them off to Tara and Morgan before pushing further into the house.

“Got the fire out,” Glenn radioed.

“Nice work, Probie,” Shane added.

“Jesus Christ!” Daryl shouted.

Rick almost ran into his back, his heart stopping at the thought of imminent danger. And judging from all the garbled voices coming through the radio, he knew he wasn’t alone. His hands found Daryl’s hips, and he did his best to remain calm so he could assess whatever situation they were about to face. “Daryl?”

“Nuh-uh, no one said anything about no damn snakes!”

“What?” Rick said, pushing forward just a tad so he could see in the room. Several glass tanks lined one wall, all containing pythons of various sizes. “Oh shit! I think we’re gonna need some help in here.”

“I don’t see no fucking lizards, _Morgan_. Unless these bastards lost their legs,” Daryl spat.

“Daryl, we gotta get ‘em out of here,” Rick said, moving past him. “Ain’t afraid of snakes, are ya, Darlin’?” He knew Daryl couldn’t see his smirk through his mask, but he must’ve heard it in his voice.

“No, _Rick_. That is a fifty pound reticulated python, and I have no plans on bein’ its dinner.”

“Oh shit! That’s a big ass snake,” Shane said when he walked in. “Buuut, I guess ya’ll are used ta those.”

“Shane, would ya grab the small ones over there?” Rick asked, choosing to ignore his comment.

“Yeah, bes’ leave the big one to the professional _snake wranglers _of the house,” he snickered.__

__“You fond a’ your teeth, Walsh?” Daryl growled._ _

__Rick opened the lid on the big guy’s tank and tried not to think about what they were about to do. Just part of the job, saving lives, no matter how slithery they happened to be. “Daryl, there’s too much smoke in here. We gotta move ‘em.”_ _

__“Damn, I feel like Peewee Herman when he rescues all those snakes from the pet store,” Shane groaned as he picked up a handful of babies._ _

__“Coulda just taken the whole tank, idiot,” Daryl muttered, but Shane had already started for the door._ _

__“Okay, little fella, please don’t bite me,” Rick said. He took a deep breath and reached in to start fishing the snake out. “Daryl? We got this.”_ _

__“Merle used to torture me with that _Anaconda_ movie. I’d take a rattler over this asshole any day.”_ _

__“Well, today ain’t that day, baby. We gotta move.”_ _

__Daryl let out a whine but reached in a reluctant hand. “I lied. Bastard’s more than fifty pounds,” he grunted as they hoisted the snake onto their shoulders._ _

__When they got outside, they sat the snake in the grass and took off their masks, both breathing heavy from exertion. Daryl shot him a look when the children ran up and thanked them for saving Ms. Peaches. Who the hell named a snake after fruit? But the kids looked more than happy. The parents at least had the mind to look guilty for their lie._ _

__The worst part came on the ride back to the House. Shane might’ve been slow to warm up to the idea of them as a couple, but he had no problem coming up with snake-laced innuendos. Even T-Dog threatened to push him out of the rig if he didn’t stop repeating “My anaconda don’t want none unless ya got buns, hun.”_ _

__By the end of the shift, things felt mostly back to normal. Except for Merle, but he seemed just as keen as Rick to avoid each other. They probably needed more time._ _

__“So, I’ll see you later,” Rick said when they got out to his jeep. They both took a quick look around before sharing a brief kiss. But apparently not brief enough because they heard snickers and catcalls as they broke apart. “Sorry.”_ _

__“No,” Daryl said before grabbing him by the collar and kissing him long and hard._ _

__It left Rick a little dazed, but he heard Daryl say six o’clock before his motorcycle roared to life._ _

__He smiled all the way home._ _

__*****_ _

__Rick didn’t know why he felt so nervous. Daryl had eaten food at his apartment before, a lot of the time with Carl, but things felt more official now, like they were about to have a family dinner, and maybe that hit him a little harder than he’d anticipated. He wanted it to be perfect and even made Carl wear a button down shirt, much to the kid’s chagrin._ _

__“Dad, you’re making me nervous,” Carl said as Rick buzzed around the kitchen. “And a little dizzy.”_ _

__“What?” Rick asked absentmindedly as he burned his finger on the sauté pan...again._ _

__“It’s really not a big deal. It’s just dinner.”_ _

__“I know, I jus’....”_ _

__“He already likes us,” Carl added, snagging a crouton from the salad._ _

__A salad? Seriously? What the hell had he been thinking?_ _

__But Carl was right. He should probably stop overthinking things. He’d already won Daryl over with his...well, he wasn’t sure how he won him over, but it didn’t matter. Daryl liked him, he liked his kid, and obviously, he liked his dick so they’d already gotten past the hard stuff._ _

__He laughed at his own idiotic pun, and Carl raised a suspicious brow. “What?”_ _

__“He does like us, huh?”_ _

__“Duh.”_ _

__Before Rick could call him a smart aleck, the doorbell chimed._ _

__“I’ll get it,” Carl said, already halfway to the door._ _

__Rick smiled to himself and turned to take the pan off the stove, but something about the way Carl said “Dad” had him spinning back around. His blood turned to ice when he saw the long, shiny barrel of a gun pressed to Carl’s temple, his son’s whimpers drowning out the crash of the hot pan against the floor and the bloodcurdling voice saying his name._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Muahahaha! _runs away_


	41. A Beautiful Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The big reveal!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _*runs back to you all*_ I bring this peace offering for leaving you on that terrifying cliffhanger. It's an emotional rollercoaster, so hang on to your seats!!
> 
> Thanks to the lovely MermaidSheenaz and lilvixen25 for beta'ing this! <3

“Hello, Rick,” the familiar voice echoed, but the words didn’t register in Rick’s tortured brain. All he could focus on were the traumatized eyes of his son staring back at him, pleading for help behind shaggy bangs.

Rick held his hands up, hoping to placate the gun pointed at Carl’s head. “Son, it’s gonna be okay.”

“Is it, Rick? You know, you really shouldn’t lie to children. It leads to trust issues later on in life.” A dry laugh reverberated through the apartment, and Rick balled his fists. “But I don’t think that’ll matter after tonight.”

“If you hurt him—”

“What? You’ll kill me? Real original, Rick. Now…can I trust you not to do anything stupid?”

Rick’s heart started to pound like the drums of war when Carl winced, the muzzle pressing harder into his temple. Rick swallowed as he nodded, and watched Gareth walk Carl further into the apartment. He looked eerily calm for someone holding a gun on a teenager, a black backpack slung over one shoulder blending into his black hoodie.

“He’s just a kid. Let ‘im go. It’s me ya want.”

Gareth’s lips curled into a smirk. “No, I want World Peace, is that really too much to ask?” He looked around for a moment before turning his eyes back on Rick. “Nice place you have here. Why don’t we go check out the bedrooms? Rick, lead the way.” Gareth motioned toward the hallway with the gun before putting it back against Carl’s head.

Rick knew he should’ve grabbed the knife off the counter when he had the chance, but he didn’t think he could’ve made a move for it before Gareth shot one of them. His mind raced trying to think of a way to escape or possible weapons he could use in his room, but he didn’t have anything handy. And he couldn’t risk Carl getting hurt. Jesus Christ! What the hell was he going to do?

He exaggerated his movements just to be safe, all the while keeping an eye on Carl as he started down the hall. He turned into his bedroom, eyes sweeping the area for something he could use to bash Gareth’s face in. The lamp would have to do, but he couldn’t try for it with a gun pointed at his son’s head. He’d have to wait and hope an opportunity presented itself.

Rick breathed a little easier when Gareth let go of Carl, but he didn’t take the gun off him. “It’s a little dark in here, but we’ll fix that. Have a seat on the rug, Rick.” Rick hesitated but slowly lowered himself onto the floor. Carl moved to join him, but Gareth yanked him back. “Not so fast, kid. I need your help first.”

“I ain’t helping you do shit,” Carl spat, and if ever there was a time Rick was willing to let the swears slide, it was now.

Gareth sighed and jerked Carl over toward the bed. “Sit.” Rick nodded for him to do as he was told, so Carl flopped himself down on the bed and jerked away from Gareth’s grip. “Teenagers, am I right?”

“What do ya want from us?” Rick asked, helpless to do anything else.

“Oh, you know: vengeance, revenge, payment for what you _took_ from me.”

Rick shook his head. He felt completely lost. He hadn’t taken anything from him.

Gareth rolled his eyes and dropped his backpack on the bed. “Why don’t we get everything set up for the big show? Then we can talk.”

Gun still in hand, Gareth unzipped his backpack and began to extract the contents. A chill ran down Rick’s spine when he saw the rope knowing him and Carl would likely be strung up with it. And the two bottles of lighter fluid Gareth slapped down pretty much cemented the asshole as the arsonist in Rick’s mind.

“You…you killed all those people?”

“Collateral damage,” Gareth said as he shrugged. “I was _trying_ to get your attention, but I guess you’re the kind of person who needs it spelled out for you…now Carl, you were in the Boy Scouts, weren’t you?”

“Fuck you,” Carl snarled.

Gareth didn’t look impressed. “Are you going to let him talk to me that way, Rick? I doubt Lori would approve of how you’re raising your son.”

“Don’t you talk about her,” Rick gritted out.

“Oh, a soft spot,” Gareth said as he smiled, and Rick wanted to punch it right off his face. “Here, Carl,” he said, tossing the rope at him. “Tie up your father.”

“No way, asshole!”

“Carl, jus’ do what he says.”

Gareth pointed the gun at Rick. “Yeah, Carl, do what I say, and I won’t shoot your father. Start with his legs…and make sure it’s tight.”

Rick felt the pull of the rope across his ankles, Carl’s pleading eyes weighing on him more than anything. How were they going to get out of this mess? He didn’t think Gareth would let them go like he had with the earlier families. And every second that ticked by lowered their chances of escape. He could only hope Daryl would get to them in time. The clock on side table said a quarter to six. He needed to stall him for as long as he could.

Carl slipped the rope around his wrists, and he grunted when his shoulders pulled when Gareth tightened them. 

“What exactly do ya think I took from you?”

Gareth looked put out by the question. “My brother, what did you think?”

“Your brother died in prison where he belonged. He killed my wife, my daughter, he deserved a lot wor—”

Rick’s vision flashed black when Gareth hit him, the thwack from the gun ringing in his ears. The throbbing made his eyes water, but he cried out for Carl when Gareth threw him to the ground. Rick struggled against his ropes while he watched Gareth tie up Carl, his wrists burning against his restraints.

“Enough games,” Gareth said, jerking Carl up into a sitting position beside Rick. He pulled the gun out of his pocket and pointed it back at Carl.

Rick glared but settled back down. He could feel Carl’s arm pressed into him and did his best to angle himself between him and the gun. But he had a feeling Gareth wouldn’t use it. He didn’t want to risk the noise, and he preferred fire as his weapon of choice.

“Why are you doin’ this?”

Gareth sighed and sat down on the bed. “Let’s take a little stroll down memory lane…It was a hot summer day two years ago. My brother, Alex, had just failed his qualifications exam to join the fire department in King’s County, Georgia. Apparently some asshole name R. Grimes thought his footwork was too sloppy to join the team.”

“I-I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know? That you caused all of this? It’s your fault, Rick, but let’s continue with the story. We can have a Q&A when it’s over…where was I? Ah, with his dream smashed—thanks to you—Alex drove to the closest bar and drank his sorrows away. But then my mother called him. Some idiots had robbed her inside her own home, but I’m guessing you didn’t know that either.”

Rick shook his head. He’d been in a state of shock during the whole thing, his head a hazy mess of ghostly memories and unfathomable heartbreak as he mourned Lori and the baby. His mind hadn’t truly started to clear until he moved to Atlanta. What else had he missed?

“In a rush to get to our mother, Alex sped down the road, weaving in and out of traffic when he lost control and collided with a vehicle, Lori’s vehicle.”

Rick closed his eyes, the memory of that day flooding back to him. He didn’t want to relive it again. He’d finally found a way to move on. 

He opened his eyes when he heard the bed creak. Gareth stood and began to pace in front of him.

“It gets better. Then came the trial. The prosecutor wanted to offer Alex a plea deal. He understood the extenuating circumstances, but the grieving husband wouldn’t stand for that. _He_ wanted to testify. And instead of a little jail time and community service, Alex got ten years in prison.”

“Deserved longer,” Carl mumbled.

“So it’s my fault your law breakin’ brother went ta jail?” Rick asked.

“Were you not listening? Because that’s what I just said,” Gareth answered with a glare. “But there’s more. We came up with a plan to break him out.”

“The prison fire.”

“It was genius really. And it would’ve worked if not for House Twelve riding in for the rescue. The fire didn’t have enough time to allow Alex to escape. They arrived on their bright, shiny engine and got all the inmates out. The next week, I wake up to a call informing me my brother got shanked and killed when someone started a rumor he killed a baby.”

“He did,” Rick spat.

“Semantics. But imagine my surprise when I set that first fire to lure in House Twelve and lo and behold _Rick Grimes_ , the man who took my brother from me, pulled up in a nice new uniform.” He bent down in front of Rick and retrieved something from his pocket. “Fate is a beautiful thing.”

Gareth held up a box of matches and gave it a shake. Rick felt the rattle right down to his bones. He watched Gareth slide open the box and pull out a match. He drew the head alone the strike paper, and it fizzed to life. “Live by the flame, and die by it.” Rick jerked his head back when Gareth held the match up to his face.

“Jus’ let Carl go, okay? Then you can do whatever ya want to me,” Rick pleaded.

The matched burned down and Gareth threw it over his shoulder. “I admire your dedication to your son, but in revenge scenarios, it’s always best to take out the whole bloodline. It’s just easier that way.”

“You won’t get away with this, you sick fuck!”

“See, this is why I stick with houses. The family can yell all they want and not disturb the neighbors.” Gareth stood up and grabbed a roll of duct tape from his bag. “But I brought something for that.”

Carl started yelling for help as Rick began to fight against the ropes. Rick thrashed out at Gareth when he got too close to Carl, but he backed off when he felt the cold metal of the gun press into his skin. Then they both had tape over their mouths, and he could hear Carl sobbing next to him.

“I’d really love to stay, but I think I’ve worn out my welcome. It was good to catch up.” Gareth struck a few matches and tossed them on the bed. “And don’t worry. You’ll be dead long before the fire reaches you.” With a malicious grin, he grabbed the bottles of lighter fluid and left the room.

The clock said 6:05, and Rick wondered where the hell Daryl was, but he couldn’t worry about that. He had to get Carl out of the apartment, which meant he had to free himself from the ropes.

Thank God the summer heat had him put his comforter in storage because the bed didn’t catch fire. It smoldered, and the smell of smoke filled the room, but that gave them a chance. They just had to get to the window and go down the fire escape. No doubt Gareth had already set the kitchen on fire, and probably disabled the smoke detector, so they only had a few minutes to get out before smoke overwhelmed them.

He and Carl struggled to break free, but he could feel his strength waning. The temperature started to rise and the crackle of fire grew louder as it drew closer. He looked to Carl, his son’s blue eyes wide with horror, and he wished more than anything that he could tell him he was sorry because maybe this whole goddamn thing was all his fault.

***

Daryl checked his phone as soon as he got off his bike. He had expected a cheeky reply from Rick after he told him he’d be late. He knew his boyfriend wouldn’t resist making a quip about him stopping to pick up dessert. Maybe trying not to burn the kitchen down kept him too busy. There was a reason they didn’t let him cook at the House.

He chuckled to himself and started for the elevator. After he pushed the button, he looked down to fiddle with his phone when some jackass ran right into him.

“Hey watch it, asshole!” Daryl yelled, but the guy just kept running without so much as an apology. He thought about chasing after him, but he didn’t want to be any later than he already was. Besides, the elevator had arrived. He pushed the button for Rick’s floor and waited for the ascent.

He caught his reflection in the metal door and hoped he hadn’t overdressed. He’d put on one of his good shirts, and even styled his hair a little, not that you could tell after wearing his helmet. He knew he didn’t need to impress Rick. He’d had dinner with them before, but Rick had said he was cooking, and for some reason that made it feel special.

God, he was probably reading into it, and he knew Merle would tell him to stop acting like a girl, but he kind of liked the idea of an official family dinner. It felt official anyway. Their relationship was out of the bag, and he figured they could start doing things like a real couple. Jesus, he was a fucking girl.

Or maybe he was just in love.

In an attempt to avoid any awkward conversations with Rick’s nosy neighbors, he practically tiptoed down the hall. His senses perked up when he got a whiff of smoke, the familiar scent setting off some primeval part of him. Perhaps someone had decided to barbeque or maybe burned dinner, but the closer he got to Rick’s apartment, the stronger the smell.

He knocked on the door. “Rick?” When no one answered, he tried the knob, but it wouldn’t budge. He started pounding on the door when smoke began to seep out of the cracks. “Rick, Carl! Open the door.”

“What’s going on?” Jessie asked from down the hall.

“Call 9-1-1,” Daryl instructed. He took a step back, sucked in a deep breath, and then tried to shoulder his way inside, but he couldn’t get in. Jessie had her phone when he looked at her again. “Get everybody out!” He moved back a few steps before he started to kick at the door until it finally gave way, a cloud of grey punching him in the face.

He could see flames engulfing the kitchen from the door, and Daryl had a pretty damn good idea what had happened. Which meant Rick and Carl were probably tied up in the bedroom. “Fuck, oh fuck! Rick?” He dropped his bag and popped on his helmet. He knew they didn’t have much time, not enough to wait for the fire department.

And certainly not enough time to think.

He only acted, put his head down and rushed in the apartment. He could feel the heat permeating his body, sweat already forming on his skin. A line of fire had crept across the floor and he had to take a running jump to cross it. The bottom of his pant leg caught fire, but he smothered it with his hand and ran down the hallway. 

Rick and Carl were both tied up as they inched their way toward the window. Thank God, he always carried a knife with him. He reached for Carl’s feet, but he started to kick at him “Carl, it’s me!” Daryl didn’t know if either could hear him over the roaring fire plus his helmet, but Carl looked up at him and stopped fighting.

Daryl cut them both loose, careful when he removed the tape from their mouths, and Rick immediately went for the window. He struggled as he started to cough, so Daryl pushed him out of the way and unfastened the latched, pushing the window up. He helped Carl out onto the fire escape, but when he turned around to help Rick, his boyfriend wasn’t there.

“Rick?!”

The smoke had started to make his eyes burn, but he saw Rick heading back toward him holding up a picture frame. “’S the only one I got.”

Daryl nodded and helped Rick out the window before following. He heard the sirens in the distance as they made the climb down the rickety steps. Daryl took his helmet off when he reached the bottom and almost got knocked down when Rick and Carl both threw their arms around him.

He could hear Rick wheezing when he buried his face in his neck, and Carl had started to cough as he sniffled. Then they were all sinking to the ground, Daryl doing his best to hold them all up. But Rick had started to sob right along with Carl. He had tried to shush them, one hand tangled in Rick’s hair, the other running up and down Carl’s back, but they’d just gone through a harrowing event.

“Yer all right,” he soothed. “I gotcha.”

Daryl just held them as they clung to him for dear life. Thank fuck he got to them in time. He didn’t want to think about how much time they had left. They were safe now, and maybe he needed his hands on them as much as they needed theirs on him.

“Thank you,” Rick whispered before he found Daryl’s lips. They shared a sloppy, salty kiss, sweat and tears mixing as they melted together.

“We’re okay.”

Rick pressed a kiss to Carl’s forehead just as the EMTs arrived with oxygen masks for all three of them. Daryl got his phone out and sent a text to Merle. Rick and Carl would likely need to visit the ER, and Daryl knew they’d all have to give statements to the police. It was going to be a long night, but at least they were all going to be fine.

***

Gareth watched from an alleyway as “the three musketeers” climbed down the fire escape. Damn, he hadn’t counted on a rescue attempt. He knew he should’ve squirted some lighter fluid on the bed just to be safe, but he’d gotten so excited to start the kitchen fire that it slipped his mind. Shit, did he blow his only chance?

When the knight in a shining motorcycle helmet removed his “mask”, Gareth recognized him immediately. It was one of the guy’s from Rick’s Firehouse.

And they looked awfully close.

A new plan started to form in his head as soon as he saw them kiss, a smug grin replacing his frown of inadequacy. If Rick Grimes refused to die, then he’d just have to take out his new _friend._ It’d be symbolic. And like he told Rick, sometimes fate was a beautiful thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, were you right about the arsonist? Or did he fool you?


	42. The Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is an emotionally heavy chapter, but what did you expect after the Big Reveal? And my betas are either in Italy taking pictures of marble butts or recovering from the flu, so I'm on my own here and feeling vulnerable, but here ya go. 
> 
> Also I'm not sure if this is quite what you were looking for duosdeathscythe, but I hope you like it anyway!

Rick had heard all the accounts from the arson survivors: the entry at gunpoint, tying up the victims, fires in the kitchens, smoke and sirens and fear, but now there he sat on the edge of a gurney in the hospital, Carl curled under one arm, Daryl pressed into the other, while he recounted the evening’s events. The Arson team and the police asked him a thousand questions while the doctors worked him and Carl over, but all he wanted to do was get out of there.

He remembered every detail from Gareth’s calm demeanor, the way he spoke with such confidence, to the gun pressed into Carl’s head. His son had tiny bruises from where metal met skin, and Rick couldn’t look at them without his heart aching for his innocence. He tried not to let Gareth’s words get to him, but maybe it was all his fault.

Rick contemplated calling Carol and telling her to take Carl and Sophia and get the hell out of Atlanta, but the thought of not being with his son turned his stomach. He’d call and tell her what happened first thing in the morning, if Tyreese didn’t beat him to it. No doubt the news had already spread throughout town.

Not soon enough, the doctors gave him and Carl both a clean bill of health after some oxygen therapy, but he didn’t know where they would go. They couldn’t go back home. The place was a crime scene and probably no longer habitable. He should’ve called Carol, but he didn’t want to get her out of bed at such a late hour. He thought about getting Daryl to drop them off at a motel for the night, but before he could form words other than _‘M fine,_ Daryl had whisked them out the back entrance away from the damn reporters and ushered them into Merle’s truck.

They drove in silence, the light from the street lamps bathing them all in a sickly yellow. Merle pulled up to Daryl’s apartment building, and Rick felt overcome with relief. He supposed that was as close to a peace offering as him and Merle would get. He’d totally take it. Daryl hadn’t asked him where to go either, he’d just acted, and if Rick hadn’t loved him before, he sure did now.

“Carl,” Rick whispered, nudging him awake. 

“Where are we?” he replied as he rubbed at his bloodshot eyes.

“My place,” Daryl said.

Apparently, that was good enough for him because Carl climbed out of the truck and proceeded to follow Daryl up the stairs. The clock on the microwave said 2:30 AM when they got inside, and Rick hoped Carl would fall right asleep. 

“Want somethin’ to drink?” Daryl asked, retrieving himself a beer from the fridge.

Carl mumbled a no as he flopped down on the couch, and Rick shook his head. He needed a shower to scrub the smell of smoke from his skin, but he didn’t think he had the strength tonight. Daryl slid the bottle across the counter to him and he drank half of it in one go. There he went again, acting when Rick couldn’t figure out how to stop his mind from spinning like a goddamn tilt awhirl. 

“Ya’ll can take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch,” Daryl said, taking back the bottle when Rick held it out to him. 

Rick turned to look at Carl, but the kid had already fallen asleep. He thought about carrying him to bed as memories of a younger Carl clinging to him on the nights Rick and Lori let him stay up past bedtime overwhelmed him. But he didn’t think the teenaged version would appreciate that quite as much. 

He watched Daryl cover him with a blanket from the back of the couch before taking Rick’s hand and leading him into the bedroom. “He’ll be okay,” he whispered as he shut the door.

Rick knew he would; he’d make sure of it.

Him, on the other hand….

“Can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout it.”. The evening replayed on a loop in his head, and he tried to think of what he could’ve done differently, how he could’ve been more prepared, but Gareth had blindsided them. 

He felt Daryl’s hands cup his jaw, their bodies fitting together. “ ‘S over now. We’re all fine.”

Rick wanted to protest, argue that he was far from fine, no matter what he told the doctors, but Daryl’s lips took the words right out of his mouth. The kiss felt like truth and hope, and maybe he wasn’t fine now, but he would be. Daryl would make sure of it. 

“Clothes smell like shit,” Daryl said, not waiting for a reply before he slid his hands under Rick’s shirt and peeled it off, his own following right after.

They tumbled into bed, exhaustion and tension warring inside every ounce of Rick’s body. But he knew he wouldn’t find sleep anytime soon, not with the shit swirling around in his head. He felt Daryl unfasten his jeans, the bed dipping as he went to wiggle them down his legs. 

“Jus’…make ‘em stop,” Rick pleaded, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. 

Daryl must’ve known what he meant, of course he did, because then they were kissing again, fingers tangling in his hair as he did his best to concentrate on the taste of Daryl’s tongue licking into his mouth, the weight of him pinning him down, _anything_ but the barrel of a gun and the stench of flames.

Teeth whispered over the line of his jaw, and he felt his skin pimpling with goosebumps. His body burned hot like the fire had scorched him, or maybe smoked him like a Christmas ham, but the drag of Daryl’s swollen cock down the length of his thigh had him shivering regardless, had all his thoughts quieting into a soft murmur. But that just wasn’t good enough.

He sucked in a haggard breath when Daryl teased his nipple, Daryl biting down at the same time he bit into his lip. The pleasure-pain drowned out the rope burns on his wrists and washed away Gareth’s face—that oily grin, those unremorseful eyes. 

Daryl looked up at him, replacing haunting visions with his rugged beauty, but the moonlight streaming in the window muted the denim blue of his eyes. That or arousal had devoured them.

With eyes locked, Daryl kissed a trail down his stomach. He nuzzled against the side of his cock before licking a path up the underside. And there went the odor of antiseptic and the beeping of machines, overtaken by the heady scent of sex now rolling off them and their accompanying moans of passion. He hoped to God Carl was still asleep.

“They stop yet?” Daryl asked, voice thick and low and sending tendrils of want spiraling out as his breath trickled over Rick’s skin.

Rick took a few breaths before giving a shake of his head. 

In reply, Daryl’s tongue darted out to lap at the tip of his cock.

_Almost._

He arched up as Daryl swallowed him down, trying to let go and give into bliss, but dolorous thoughts circled the wagon of his mind like vultures awaiting a meal. And the “What if’s,” oh God, the _What if’s_ had him on the verge of madness.

“Daryl?” He choked on his name, mouth ashen and dry from the oxygen and soot. But it was all he could manage, the only way he could say he needed more.

Daryl was hovering above him in a heartbeat, always knowing what he needed. “ ‘M here, gonna fix it,” he said, leaning down and kissing Rick breathless. 

Then a slippery hand curled around his shaft, pumping in slow rhythm. Rick had no idea when Daryl had grabbed the lube, but it was probably best not to conjure up any memories right now. He barely had time to register the initial breech because Daryl easing onto him just might’ve been the most perfect moment of his life. Fitting that it came right after one of the worst.

But oh God, he’d found the silence. 

A stillness matched it, Daryl’s forehead pressing into his as they breathed each other in. He was sure he’d burn up this time, scatter on celestial winds, and maybe that wouldn’t be the worst way to go. Death by Daryl. Smothered by the tight heat engulfing him like suns destroy stars.

Rick’s whole body quaked when Daryl gave an experimental roll of his hips. “And now?”

“J-jus’ you.”

He felt Daryl smirk against his lips, but he surged upward, kissing him with every bit of strength he had left. Daryl broke the kiss and straightened, leaving Rick to gaze up at him in reverie. They’d never fucked like this before, although he’d hardly call it fucking, more like making love. 

And fuck did Daryl look beautiful, like a statue cut from marble on display to the world. No, just to him. He was the only one who’d ever seen him like this, Rick realized, and if he had it his way, no one else ever would. 

He ran his hands up Daryl’s thigh, muscles flexing against his palms as Daryl rocked against him. Rick continued across the ridge of his hips and over the undulating planes of his stomach reveling in they way he moved like liquid. Rick was the violin and he was the bow, every minute movement resonating through them both in perfect harmony. 

If he’d had more sense in the moment, he might’ve been wrecked with the guilt of letting Daryl do all the work, but Daryl had banished all thought, made him more and more pliable each time he raised himself up. And each time he slammed back down.

“Jesus, baby, I ain’t gonna last,” Rick panted out. He’d held on for just about as long as he could stand, and now all he wanted to do was fall apart, let Daryl strip away all his pieces and put them back in a way that made sense because he sure as shit didn’t trust himself to know where they all went.

“Let…go,” Daryl rasped. Like it was just that easy. And yeah, maybe it was.

So he did. He let go and enjoyed the way Daryl doubled down, every rock of his hips more wild than the last, enjoyed watching every slide of his hand as he worked himself over and the way he threw his head back exposing the line of his neck Rick wanted to mark with his lips, and maybe some teeth.

But mostly, he enjoyed the silence of it all despite the fact there was nothing silent about it. Maybe their grunts and moans had obscured everything else, but it didn’t matter really.

What did was the ten years worth of tension that seemed to leech out of him when he met his release. And he would swear to his dying day that Daryl rode him all the way up to the Gates of Hell and back again because surely he’d died somewhere in between, only coming back to himself when he felt hot spurts raining down on his chest and Daryl’s body pulsing around him as he withered above.

Daryl pulled off him before he melted against Rick’s side. He’d need a minute—or maybe a lifetime—to recover from that. But for now, Rick was content to lay there in the silence; the sound of Daryl’s breathing the only thing on his mind.

*****

For the first time in his life Rick woke up in a warm bed that wasn’t his by purchase or assignment. Underneath him was a hot, cut body marred by scars that he believed still managed to be perfection incarnate. The two fit so snuggly together that, for a moment, he thought that the Jaws of Life wouldn’t be strong enough to cut them apart.

Maybe he was still high on the adrenaline from the previous night, having to face his own mortality and coming so close to losing Carl, but that didn’t make any of it less true. He’d fallen in love for the second time, and even though it felt different to how it had with Lori, the intensity of it, the pull between them felt just as strong.

Daryl’s rippling biceps wrapped around him, and he’d never felt so safe. He knew he should get up and check on Carl, but the fingers interlocked on his upper back kept him in place, thumbs drawing random patterns on his skin as they drove a spike of arousal down his spine. He smiled sleepily and kissed the relatively soft, dark brown hair on Daryl’s sternum.

He lifted his head and rested his chin on his hands in order to prevent discomfort to his sculpted Adonis. He was met with a crooked smile and two fiercely blues eyes gazing into his own, and with that, he was breathless. Suddenly, their nakedness dawned on him as their half morning erections rub together when he wiggled, and with that, his throat went dry.

“I think ‘m in love with you,” Daryl said, voice still gruff with sleep. 

Rick caught the undertone of vulnerability in it, but never had he imagined Daryl would say it first. “I know...me too....”

“Christ, Rick! How the fuck did this happen?!” Daryl sat up forcing Rick to tumble onto his side, his whole demeanor changing in the blink of an eye.

“How the hell should I know? You tried ta make my first months in town a living hell, remember?”

Rick watched as Daryl clambered out of bed and reached for his clothes, thrusting a leg in his jeans and nearly toppling over. “Yeah, and it didn’t work because ‘a your stubborn ass. Then ya went and made me fall in love with you like some sorta sorcerer.”

“Like you didn’t do the same ta me?”

“I didn’t do nothin’ to ya,” Daryl snapped back, grabbing for a shirt and putting it on inside out in his haste.

Rick smirked at the folly. “Well you certainly did _somethin’_ to me last night.” And he was kind of doing something to him right now, that infamous scowl sending heat pooling in his belly. But to be fair, worked up Daryl probably would’ve done _things_ to nuns, Heaven help him. 

Daryl deflated a little at his humorous reply, or maybe at the tent Rick’s dick had constructed under the sheets. “Fuckin’ sorcerer,” he huffed under his breath, sitting back down on the bed beside Rick.

Silence stretched out between them, and somewhere along the line Rick’s fingers found Daryl’s like they always seemed to do. “Don’t matter how we got here,” Rick finally said. “ ‘M just glad we did.”

Daryl scoffed and rolled his eyes, but Rick caught the faint blush creep up his neck. They leaned toward each other for a kiss, but just before their lips met, Carl cried out from the living room.

“Carl?” Rick hollered back, scrambling to his feet in search of clothes, but Daryl had already tore out of the room like a bullet, leaving him to flop around like a fish out of water as he struggled with his jeans.

Daryl had his arm around Carl when Rick made it out of the bedroom. His heart had nearly skidded to a standstill at his son’s harsh cry, but now it seized up for a completely different reason. 

“Just a nightmare. Right, kid? They happen to me all the time,” Daryl said, meeting Rick’s eyes as he reassured them both.

Rick joined them on the couch, running a hand through Carl’s hair. “Wanna talk about it?”

Carl shook his head.

“How ‘bout y’all play a few rounds of Mario Cart while I make breakfast?” Daryl suggested. “Loser has ta do the dishes?”

“Dad _always_ loses,” Carl bragged.

“Hey, I’ve been practicin’,” Rick said, not caring if he won or lost. He knew Daryl had brought it up to get Carl’s mind off things, which he appreciated. “Unless y’all want me ta make breakfast.”

“NO!” Carl and Daryl yelled in unison.

Rick chuckled and got up to retrieve the controllers. He tossed one to Carl, and threw a wink Daryl’s way. “All right then. Le’s do this.”

*****

Daryl felt itchy all morning, like something had worked its way under his skin and threatened to strip it from him. Him and Rick had gone and made their love confessions, and now he realized just how much he would’ve lost the night before if he hadn’t shown up when he did. And not just Rick but Carl too, a chance at a family he’d never had, and maybe he wanted it more than he thought he would.

In a surprising upset, Rick defeated Carl three games to two at Mario Cart, and as he sat on the counter watching them move around the kitchen—because Rick just couldn’t let Carl do it alone, not after their night—he’d lost himself in the domesticity of it all. He wanted more of it, but he knew none of them would be safe until Gareth was rotting behind bars.

Then Rick’s phone rang and he’d been thrown back to last night as he listened to Rick explain things to Carol. 

Merle had taken Daryl’s bike the night before, leaving his truck behind so they could use it to haul anything that survived the fire. So now they were heading to the crime scene to assess the damage and what remained. 

Daryl pulled the truck out of the parking lot, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the radio. “Y’all can stay with me if ya need to.”

“Thanks, but Carol and Sophia already made room for us,” Rick said.

Daryl hummed in reply. He thought he hid his disappointment well.

The charred apartment was too quiet when they entered. He could hear the squish of the waterlogged carpet underfoot as they carefully trekked through the wreckage, but the place seemed structurally sound. It smelled like smoke and almost everything had a layer of ash and grim on it. 

Their bedrooms faired the best, and most of their clothes were salvageable. Some of Carl’s comics had water and fire damage, but the majority of them survived, much to the kid’s delight. The same could not be said of the living room with its melted television and the Xbox Carl had almost wept for. And of course the kitchen had been thoroughly destroyed.

They’d gotten most of the salvageable items loaded up in the truck by lunch and made plans to stop at a nearby dinner for lunch, but Rick had insisted on doing one last sweep of the place before they left.

He stood by doorway and watched Rick tiptoe over to the refrigerator, his shoulders slumping as he stared at the deformed metal door. Daryl knew what he was doing, scanning for the sonogram that once stood out proudly among the magnets, the only thing he’d had of his baby girl. But it was long gone. And Daryl felt like he was intruding on a private moment when Carl joined Rick. They embraced, Rick’s shoulders heaving as they mourned their loss, wounds that were once scabbed over reemerging once again. 

Daryl knew two things in that moment. One: he’d do whatever he had to in order to keep them all safe. And two: it didn’t matter how long it took, but he’d find a way to make that sonofabitch pay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally made it to the "beginning" of the story!! Yay! Just fyi, September is going to be a busy month for me, so I'm not sure when I'll get around to the next update. Bare with me. <3
> 
> In other news, _[Taming the Wyld](http://www.luciearcher.com/taming-the-wyld.html)_ is now available for those who are interested. So go check it out!! /shameless self-promotion.


	43. Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner and a movie, family style.

Daryl’s stomach rumbled just as Yoshi’s bike went spinning out of control courtesy of a turtle shell Carl sent his way. “Would ya stop that!” He nudged Carl with his elbow and laughed when Mario went skidding off the dirt track.

“That’s cheating!” Carl huffed.

“Nah, just some minor interference.”

“Same thing.”

Then a thundercloud zapped Yoshi, and Daryl grunted. “Who did that?”

“Aww, Mini Yoshi needs to suck on a mushroom,” Carl cackled.

“It was me,” Sophia admitted, giggling when Daryl fake scowled at her.

“Oh yeah? We’ll see who’s laughin’ now.”

Carl stood up when Daryl’s avatar passed his in the form of Bullet Bill. “NO!”

Sophia joined him on her feet when Daryl went zooming into first place a second ahead of Toadette. “Rematch!”

“Would you three tone it down? I heard you all the way out in the hall,” Carol chided as soon as she came in the door. Daryl tossed his remote on the coffee table and went to help her carry the grocery bags to the kitchen.

“Sorry, jus’ got carried away.” He bit his lip and Carol rolled her eyes at him, her annoyance vanishing in an instant.

“It’s probably good for them to be carried away with somethin’ fun right now.”

Daryl nodded and started to empty the bags, stacking everything on the counter so she could put them away. “He’s still sleepin’.”

“I’m sure he needs that too. He’s always been a heavy sleeper.”

As soon as they’d finished unloading Merle’s truck at Carol and Sophia’s, Rick had staggered into Carol’s room to take a nap. He obviously needed the rest since he hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. Neither had Daryl, but someone had to look after Carl, and he knew Rick didn’t have it in him at the moment. Carl could handle himself, but Daryl didn’t want to take any chances.

“Daryl, you’re phone’s ringing,” Carl hollered from the living room. “It’s Merle,” he added right before Daryl swooped it up.

“Hey.”

“Hey baby brother, everythin’ okay there?” Merle asked.

“Yeah, fine, any update?”

“They picked the asshole up on surveillance cameras, but they lost ‘im somewhere. He was on foot as far as they could tell, no sign of a car or anythin’, but they’re still canvasin’.”

Daryl sighed and shook his head. He had hoped for good news. “‘S’at all?”

“Gonna get some guys ta cover yer shifts tomorra.”

“No.”

“Daryl.”

“Us sittin’ around on our asses ain’t gonna help no one, Merle. I gotta do something. He’s gotta do something. ‘Cause what if that ass—” Daryl cut himself off when he noticed Carl and Sophia staring up at him. He didn’t want to think about what ifs anyway. “Nothing’s gonna happen, but stayin’ busy will prolly help, ya know?”

Merle sighed through the line. “Yeah, I know… and that way we can keep an eye on y’all.”

“Yeah.”

“I think Chief’s working on gettin’ them a protection detail.”

“Really?”

“And if not, I know a hundred guys who’d volunteer in a heartbeat. So try not ta worry. We’ll take care of ‘im.”

“Mhm.”

“I gotta run. Stay safe, Darlina.”

“Yeah, you too.” Daryl ended the call and slid his phone into his pocket.

“Anythang?” Rick asked.

Daryl almost jumped at his voice. He turned to see him standing in the hallway, a shoulder pressed into the frame. “Nah, nothin’ yet.”

“Carl, Sophia, can y’all come help me with dessert?” Carol asked from the kitchen.

“One more game, mom,” Sophia tried.

Carol wiped her hands on a dishrag as she popped out of the kitchen. “Y’all can play while I make dinner. This won’t take long.”

The teens both frowned and dropped their remotes, dragging their feet as they followed the command. Rick ruffled Carl’s hair as he walked by, and Daryl’s shoulders relaxed just a pinch when he saw them both smile. They’d be okay. Everything would work out in the end. It had to.

He sat down on the couch and invited Rick over with a slight tilt of his head. All felt right with the world when Rick settled in beside him, thighs pressed together and pinkies locked like links of chain. Except it wasn’t quite right. A madman wanted his boyfriend dead, and he didn’t know what to do to change that.

“Sure yer gonna be okay here?” Daryl asked, pressing his shoulder into Rick’s.

“It ain’t permanent. Just till we can find a new place.”

Daryl kind of wanted Rick and Carl at his apartment so he could keep an eye on them, but his one bedroom almost felt cramped with him and Smokestack, so add in another adult and a teenager, and they might as well call it a matchbox. At least this way Rick and Carl could share Sophia’s room and no one had to sleep on the couch.

“They’re gonna find ‘im, right?” Rick asked.

Daryl’s heart ached at how vulnerable he sounded. He pulled his hand free and wrapped his arm around Rick. “Course they will. Got every cop in the city lookin’ for ‘im. They’ll get ‘im.”

Rick slumped against him. “Maybe… he said it was my fault.”

“It ain’t.”

“But he’s right.”

“How?”

“He’s after me. How am I not responsible for all those people he killed?”

“Cause you didn’t tie ‘em up, didn’t torch ‘em… I know it sucks, but they ain’t on you.”

“They are.”

Daryl scoffed. “Yer gonna listen to a psycho killer over me?”

Rick straightened up and looked at him, his blue eyes dull and tired. Daryl missed the usual shine of them, the way they sparkled with mischief when he plotted or shimmered like stars when he laughed. He hated that he didn’t know how to fix them.

“His brother was drunk because of me, Daryl. How is that _not_ my fault?”

“You didn’t pour it down his throat, didn’t give ‘im the keys, didn’t hold a gun to his head and say drive or die.”

“Sent him ta jail though, sent ‘im ta die.”

“The law did that, and ya didn’t shank ‘im either.”

“Wanted to.”

“ _Didn’t._ ”

Daryl watched as he thought everything over, so many emotions playing on his face. He gave a gentle squeeze of Rick’s arm and tried to convey his support through the thumb stroking the skin of his bicep. Rick could think all he wanted as long as reason won out in the end, and Daryl would stay by his side to make sure it did.

Rick eventually nodded. “Didn’t.”

Daryl nodded back.

“She’d be pissed at me too if I let him get ta me.”

He could’ve assumed Rick meant Carol, though he knew he hadn’t. He’d meant Lori. Rick didn’t talk much about her, but he couldn’t help but wonder what she was like, if they would’ve gotten along, if Rick still would’ve fallen in love with him had she lived. But none of that mattered right now.

“Sounds like a smart woman.”

Rick let out a little hum. “She was.”

“And now I know where Carl gets it from.”

“Asshole,” Rick huffed, elbowing Daryl in the ribs.

“Aww, darlin’, don’t be like that.”

They both laughed at the pet name reversal, and it helped to lift the mood. A hand curled around the back of his neck as Rick drew him close. He couldn’t help but smile when their lips met, reveling in the feeling of Rick doing the same. He felt flushed and giddy and content at the same time, but mostly he felt so damn lucky to still have Rick in his arms. He didn’t ever want to let him go.

“Ugh, get a room,” Carl groaned when he walked back in.

Rick clung to him when he tried to pull away, and his grin bloomed out of control. Jesus, he probably looked like a goddamned fool right then, or maybe like the Joker.

“Would you rather they sext?” Carol snickered.

“My ears! They bleed!”

That got them to part, but only because they couldn’t stop laughing, nice deep belly laughs, and damn, that felt almost as good as the kissing. They’d all needed some levity after the last twenty-four hours.

“Okay, the kids helped with dessert, so I need you two to assist me with dinner,” Carol said once they’d all caught their breath.

“Ya sure you want him in the kitchen?” Daryl teased, winking at Rick as they stood from the sofa.

“He’s gotta learn somehow.”

***

Rick felt lighter after his talk with Daryl. He’d felt so much guilt after everything Gareth had said to him, but Daryl made him understand how stupid it was for him to listen to the ranting of a lunatic. Gareth obviously had some problems with sanity if he could justify murdering innocent families, innocent children, without a second thought. So he knew he shouldn’t waste anymore time dwelling on what he’d said.

“Don’t forget to save room for dessert,” Carol said once they’d all sat down at the table. It only had four chairs, but Sophia volunteered to sit on one of the bar stools. She towered over everyone, and Daryl made a quip about her being the queen.

Whether he knew it or not, Daryl had a way with kids. Him and Carl got along amazingly well, and it put him a little more at ease knowing someone else had his son’s back. When he’d laid down for a nap, he couldn’t stop his mind from racing with thoughts of Carl, but as soon as he’d heard the three of them laughing in the living room, a lot of his fear melted away.

He looked around the table as it erupted in idle chatter. This is what he’d wanted last night, a nice meal with Carl and Daryl, something that reminded him of family. He didn’t get it then, but he had it now. Carl and Sophia took turns discussing their Mario Kart adventures as they schemed to get Daryl back. Carol listened intently and Daryl jumped in to “correct” them when their details started to grow a little out of hand.

Soon Daryl kicked his foot and jolted him out of his reverie. He had the chicken platter in his hands when Rick turned toward him. His eyes flashed concern, but Rick smiled and Daryl smirked back. He could get used to family dinners with the five of them. Six when Tyreese came around, eight if you included Bob and Sasha, but by that point, they might as well invite the rest of the House and call it a party.

He stayed pretty quiet throughout. The kids dominated the conversation with talk of school and their friends. Daryl spoke up on occasion to call them on their bullshit, and Carol laughed along with their excitement. It felt normal, and Rick loved every minute of it.

“Who’s ready for dessert?” Carol asked when they’d all cleaned their plates. “Rick, would you give me a hand?”

“Sure,” he replied as he dabbed his mouth with his napkin. He tossed it on the table and stood up. On his way by, he squeezed Daryl’s shoulder and let his fingers trail along the line of the other. Daryl winked at him as he rounded the corner, and he didn’t miss the way his eyes swept down his body.

“You two really do need a room,” Carol teased.

“Ya really wanna talk about this? ‘Cause Carol, the things he does ta my body—”

“Oh God, my ears!” She swatted Rick with a kitchen towel before poking her head out of the kitchen. “Everybody want ice cream?”

The three yeses didn’t surprise Rick at all. Peach cobbler without ice cream was sacrilege.

She reached into the cabinet for bowls. “You do the cobbler, I’ll do the ice cream?”

He took five spoons from the silverware drawer and shook his head. “Of course _you’d_ go for the ice cream.”

“I did buy it.”

They shared a laugh as Rick began excavating cobbler from the dish. It still felt warm to the touch, and the ice cream began to puddle as soon as it made contact with the peach filling, a river of vanilla flowing down sugary mountains. Carol knew how much he loved her cobbler, and he appreciated her putting in the effort to make it for him.

“How are you holdin’ up?” she asked.

Rick had a feeling she’d wanted to ask him that all night. “I guess I’m hangin’ in there.”

“You’re lucky Daryl showed up when he did.”

He sucked a sticky glob of cobbler off his finger. “Yeah, I know.”

“He’s good for you. Good for Carl.”

“I know that too,” he replied, sliding another bowl over to her.

“And you’re adorable together. It’s making me nauseous really.”

“Now you know how I feel when you cuddle with Ty.”

She smirked as she took the next bowl from him. “Shut up and scoop the cobbler.”

***

The evening ended on a quiet note. Daryl figured they all deserved that.

Once the cops caught the arsonist, he wanted to take Rick and Carl on a getaway to celebrate. The two of them needed some time away from everything, and maybe they could do some manly bonding. Maybe he’d teach Carl how to shoot his bow. Rick sucked in the kitchen, but he did okay manning a grill. They could fish and cook up S’mores afterward. He’d invite Morgan’s son along to keep Carl occupied while they fucked in the woods like the first time, except better because they loved each other now.

But first he had to get through the _Minions_ movie. The kids insisted they watch it, so after dinner, they all gathered around the TV. Carl and Sophia stretched out on the sleeping bag Carol had dug out of the closet, and she took the big comfy looking chair by the window. That left the couch for Daryl and Rick, and they might’ve taken a little advantage of it. Carl had insisted on dimming the lights, and Daryl refused to take responsibility for where his hands had wandered because of it.

Merle texted him at nine o’clock to check in, and that’s when he decided to call it a night. The movie had just wrapped, and the kids wanted him to stay and watch another, but he couldn’t stop yawning. He knew he’d never make it home if he didn’t leave right then.

“You’re welcome to take the couch,” Carol offered.

“Nah, ya’ll got a pretty full house as it is,” he said. And he kind of needed some time alone to process everything himself.

Rick followed him to the door, and they stepped outside. “Sure ya don’t wanna stay?”

“Course I wanna stay, but ‘m not sure I could keep my hands off ya,” Daryl snarked back, his hands running down Rick’s stomach before slipping around to his ass.

Rick leaned into him, and their lips met halfway. They fell into a languid kiss, all rolling tongues and tender lips. He wanted to rut against him, wanted to feel Rick’s cock grow against his thigh, but they were in a well-lit hallway with kids on the other side of the door. Somehow he managed to find some restraint.

He knew if they didn’t stop soon, he’d have to find some place to fuck him. Merle’s truck might work. The jackass kind of deserved it after outing them to the House. But then Rick pulled away, and he knew they’d have to take a rain check on that.

“Then I should probably go back inside.”

His eyes fell to Rick’s lips, and he whined when the bastard licked them. “And I need ta go take a cold shower.”

“Think of me.”

“Always do.”

“I’ll see ya tomorrow at work?”

Daryl nodded but didn’t want to let go. Another round of kisses later, and Rick finally broke free, but he didn’t look any happier for it.

“See ya,” Daryl said, heading toward the stairs before he could change his mind about that couch. He needed to get home and go to bed. Maybe he’d find some time in between to jack off to the memory of the previous night, Rick under him as he rode him into oblivion. His ass still kind of ached, but in the best way possible.

His head, on the other hand… well, that felt more like a sharp throbbing, exactly how he’d imagined it would feel after the butt of a gun slammed into his skull.

The good meal and rich dessert must have slowed his reflexes—of course fantasies about his boyfriend hadn’t helped either. Neither did the broken street lamp, his fatigue, or his scattered thoughts as he fished around in his pockets for the keys to Merle’s truck.

But it had happened so fast:

Thwack.

Scuffle.

Thunk.

And then everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  You still love me, right?  
> 


	44. Sorry, Rick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick wakes up to problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, this chapter kicked my ass. I spent way too much time on a scene I eventually just took out, ugh, writer problems. We’re sooo close to the end! I’m gonna cry. :(

“Hey, baby, it’s me. I jus’ wanted to tell ya goodnight, but I guess you’re probably in that shower we talked about, which means you’re probably naked. ‘M kinda sad I’m not there for that. We’ll have ta do somethin’ about it. Maybe we can have dinner in a few days, just the two of us. I had fun tonight with Carol and the kids, but… shit, I’m startin’ ta get a little clinging, huh? I’m jus’ gonna blame that on the near death experience.

“Anyway, I jus’ wanted to check in. Text me when ya get this. Maybe I’ll still be up… or maybe you can get me _up._ That was bad, sorry. Okay… love you. Bye.”

*

[Rick; 06:07] Did u get my msg last night?

[Rick; 06:38] U up yet?

[Rick; 06:39] Getting n the shower, gonna do dirty stuff…

[Rick; 06:39] thangs

*

“Okay, you’re starting to freak me out a little. I hate ta be _that_ guy, and normally I wouldn’t be, but after everythin’ we’ve jus’ been through… Daryl, jus’ call me back.”

Rick sighed and looked down at his phone, finger hesitating before he ended the call. He figured Daryl needed some alone time. He could understand that. Daryl probably hadn’t realized how much baggage he came with, hell, Rick hadn’t known it either, but he figured having a serial killer hunting him put a little more stress on their budding relationship than normal.

“Everything okay?” Carol asked. She meandered toward the coffee pot, scratching her hip as she yawned, and started filling up a travel mug.

“He ain’t answerin’ his phone.”

“Who, Daryl? Is that like him?”

“Not usually.”

She screwed the lid on the mug and sat it on the table in front of Rick. “Maybe he turned it off to get some sleep.”

Rick gave an unconvinced hum as he scrolled through his contacts. He pulled up Merle’s number as he contemplated calling him, but he didn’t know what he would say. Merle would probably bust his balls and tell him to stop being such a clingy bitch, or maybe he’d tell Rick to back off. He didn’t feel confident enough to test the strength of the bridge they’d just mended.

“Now don’t start overthinkin’ everything,” Carol said. He watched her pull the trash bag out of the trashcan and stuff in a few flattened boxes. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

Rick didn’t feel convinced by her uneasy smile. He sighed and pushed the sleep button on his phone before setting it on the table. “I’ll take that out.”

“Nah, I got it.”

“You just don’t wanna wake the kids,” Rick said, smirking when Carol met his eyes.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Uh-huh… Do ya really think we should send ‘em to school today? It’s only been a day.”

She shrugged and pulled a pan out of the cabinet. “It might be a good distraction. That’s why you’re goin’ to work, isn’t it?”

He had to give her that. “Fine, I’ll get ‘em up but only because you gotta take ‘em ta school.”

“Glad we got that settled. Now hurry up while I make breakfast.”

*

Getting Carl out of bed some mornings felt like raising the dead. Sophia, on the other hand, sprung up like a flower blooming in a time-lapse video. He didn’t dare let himself think about what might’ve been had his daughter survived the accident. He’d always wanted a girl, but he knew nothing good led down that line of thinking.

The four of them ate eggs and toast at the table together before Rick had to say goodbye. He hugged Carl tight and told him to call if he needed anything, even if he just wanted a little reassurance. Of course being the angst-riddled teen he was, Carl shrugged him off.

“Dad, I’ll be fine,” he groaned, jerking away from Rick when he tried to comb a hand through his mop of hair.

“I know, I jus’ worry.”

“You’re gonna be late.”

He hated to have to leave him after everything, but he couldn’t _not_ go to work. If Gareth had something planned for him and his friends and walked into it without him, he didn’t know what he would do. He still had residual guilt after what happened to Tyreese and Bob. He didn’t need anyone else on his conscience.

“I’ll see y’all tomorrow then. Remember ta watch your backs and—”

“We know,” Carol said, shooing him toward the door. “Take this out on your way.” She handed him the trash bag, and he made his reluctant exit.

The whole thing reminded him of the day Carl started kindergarten, except that hadn’t been a matter of life and death. Carl had run off to make friends before Rick and Lori had a chance to tell him goodbye, and Rick remembered how crushed they both were knowing their baby didn’t need them as much anymore.

Rick knew Carl could take care of himself now… mostly. But he couldn’t help worrying about him when he looked at the bruises littering Carl’s skin. He knew he’d still see them long after they faded away.

The only thing that gave him any semblance of peace was that he didn’t think Gareth would try anything any time soon. The fires he’d set required planning and a lot of self-control to keep from making mistakes, so Rick didn’t think he’d risk another move on them without a thought-out plan, especially since he’d failed the first time. He hoped he wouldn’t anyway.

Rick’s phone rang just as he tossed the garbage into the dumpster. He fished it out of his pocket, his brow furrowing when he saw Merle’s name. “Hello?”

“Ya heard from Daryl this mornin’? He ain’t answerin’ my calls.”

Merle sounded a little on edge, and the question had the hairs on the back of Rick’s neck standing on end. How long until overreacting turned into just reacting? “No, I called him last night and left messages this morning. He hasn’t replied.”

“Shit….”

“Merle?”

“I’m sure he’s fine. Probably went for a ride or somethin’. He can’t hear shit on that bike.”

Rick huffed out a haggard breath and started toward the visitor parking lot on the other side of the building. “Yeah, okay. Let me know if ya hear from him. I’m on my way to the House now.”

“Think me and Michonne’ll stop by his apartment. I need my truck back anyway.”

“Yeah, thanks for—oh God….” Rick froze in his tracks when he saw Merle’s truck parked right where they’d left it yesterday. He screwed his eyes shut, hoping they had just played a cruel trick on him and needed a reboot, but when he opened them again, all he saw was Merle’s truck staring back at him.

“Rick, ya still there? Hello?” Merle’s words trailed off like an echo, each one farther away than the last.

If not for the red streaks smeared across the windshield, Rick might’ve gotten away with thinking Daryl spent the night inside keeping watch of them. Unfortunately the words _Sorry Rick_ emblazoned on the glass in what appeared to be blood made that assumption impossible.

The sound of Merle yelling through the line eventually pulled him out of his frozen state. “Talk to me, Rick. What’s goin’ on?”

“He’s got ‘im,” he said, his voice not much louder than a whisper.

“What?”

“He’s got ‘im, Merle. He’s…”

“Call the cops. ‘M on my way.”

*

The frenzied 9-1-1 call did nothing to calm his nerves no matter how many times the dispatcher told him to breathe. He’d fallen into a panic attack, and this time he didn’t have Daryl to pull him out of it. Instead, some old lady came out from her apartment, probably to tell him to shut the hell up, but she must’ve taken pity on him and sat down to wait with him.

Rick didn’t know how he did it, but Merle showed up before the police. Thank God too because he didn’t think he had it in him to be of help just yet. He’d just gotten himself put back together enough to answer questions when Carol came out with the kids. The bone curdling way Carl yelled for him ripped through him like a cutlass through canvas.

“Dad? What happened? Where’s Daryl?”

Carl crushed him when he wrapped his arms around him. Rick thought about lying to him, making up some stupid story, but his sluggish brain couldn’t come up with anything. Not that it matter, Carl had seen the truck, seen the red smears on the glass. No story Rick thought up could overcome the truth.

“The police are lookin’ for him right now.”

Rick felt relieved when they didn’t wait for the standard twenty-four hours to pass, but apparently that didn’t apply to cases involving blood-drenched apology notes. Merle had made a few calls and the cops had all jumped into high gear.

“It was him, wasn’t it?”

Rick didn’t have to answer. He felt Carl tense in his arms before he pulled back. “They’re gonna find ‘im.”

He didn’t know if Carl believed him, but he nodded his head as their eyes drifted back over to the crime scene. Several technicians had started processing the truck and the blood spatter on the ground around it. They pulled a couple of fingerprints, but Rick already knew to whom they belonged.

Gareth could’ve taken him anywhere in the city, and he feared the search would be akin to finding a needle in a giant stack of needles. Impossible. Arson had spent months trying to track him down, but maybe the fact that Daryl was a First Responder might add a little extra motivation to the manhunt.

“Rick, what do you want me to do with the kids?” Carol asked when they joined her and Sophia.

The police had strung up crime scene tape and asked them to step to the other side of it. Rick had already given them his statement, but he knew “I found the truck” didn’t offer any kind of clue as to what had happened. He’d explained the situation about Gareth, but the officer that questioned him said they shouldn’t jump to conclusions. Rick had to ball his fists to keep from punching the idiot in the face.

“I don’t know, Carol.”

His head had filled with too many wild scenarios. He couldn’t think straight anymore. Getting Carl out of the city, out of harm’s way, might be a start, but he dreaded the idea of sending him away and potentially into Gareth’s grasp. What if the lunatic followed them out of town? What if he was watching them right now? Waiting to get Carl or him isolated so he could grab them too and take them all out together?

What if planned on using Daryl as bait? Or just his dead body?

Merle yelling drew their attention from the forensic team. Michonne had ahold of one of his arms and tried her best to coax him away from the object of his ire, but he continued his assault on two officers.

“I don’t care whose permission ya need, jus’ get it done! This is my brother we’re talkin’ about, a hero, a decorated First Responder. He could be gettin’ murdered right now for all we know, and y’all are jus’ pussy footin’ around here waitin’ for donuts! Fuckin’ useless sons’a bitches, all a’ ya!”

 

Rick ducked under the yellow tape and jogged over. As hard as it may be, they needed to keep their heads on straight. “What’s goin’ on?” he asked as he approached. He regretted opening his mouth when Merle rounded on him.

“What’s goin’ on?” Merle scoffed, “Yer sorry ass got my brother snatched is what’s goin’ on!”

“Merle,” Michonne tried.

“Don’t ‘Merle’ me. It’s true. If he hadn’t seduced him or whatever the hell he did to ‘im, none of this woulda happened.”

Rick didn’t know how to respond because he couldn’t argue with that.

“We don’t know that,” Michonne said.

“Yeah, we do. The asshole is after _him_ ,” Merle accused, jabbing his finger into Rick’s chest.

In any other situation, that might’ve pissed him off, but he deserved whatever kind of lashing Merle wanted to dish out. He didn’t have any fight in him. Everything Merle said, he knew. He’d already accepted fault.

“See, he can’t even defend himself ‘cause he knows it’s true.”

“It isn’t his fault!” Carl snarled, pushing his way in between Rick and Merle.

“Ya don’t know what yer talkin’ about. Yer just a kid,” Merle bit back.

“I’m not a kid, and I understand just fine. It wasn’t my dad’s fault when Gareth put a gun to my head, and it’s not his fault for him taking Daryl.”

Michonne threw her arm over Carl’s shoulder, both of them blocking Rick from further onslaught. “He’s right, Merle. Arguin’ and layin’ blame isn’t gonna help get him back.”

“Merle?” Maggie’s voice crackled through Merle’s radio.

He yanked it off his belt and barked into the receiver. “What?”

“We just got a fire call. You said ta let you know.”

“Send me the address. I’ll meet ‘em there.”

“Roger that.”

“You can’t just leave,” Michonne said.

“What if it’s him?”

“I’ll go,” Rick volunteered. If Gareth had anything planned for them, he thought it only fitting he be the first one in.

“No, Dad, I don’t want you to go.” Carl said, his face scrunching up with fear.

“Carl, it’s prolly nothing. Michonne, would ya do me a favor and take him back to the House and see if Maggie’ll keep an eye on him?”

“Them too?” she asked, nodding over to where Carol and Sophia stood on the curb.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Dad?”

Rick pulled Carl in for a hug. “Everything’s gonna be fine. I’ll text ya as soon as I get there and when I leave. And by the time I get back, I’m sure they’ll know where Daryl is, okay?” That last part might’ve been a lie, but he needed to believe it just as much as Carl did.

“ ‘M gonna stay and coordinate with the police,” Merle said.

Michonne cast him a sideways glare. “Coordinate or argue?”

“Think I mostly got it outta my system.” He refused to make eye contact with Rick as he added, “It ain’t all yer fault.”

Rick disagreed, but he appreciated Merle trying. He told Carol the plan before climbing into his jeep. Merle had forwarded the address of the fire to him, but he knew by that point the crew had already arrived on scene. Still, he welcomed the momentary distraction.

***

When Rick made it back to the House, not much had changed. They still hadn’t located Gareth or Daryl, but they did pick up his vehicle on a few traffic cameras, complete with bloody handprints on the trunk. Unfortunately the slippery bastard’s tracks went cold after a few blocks.

They just hit the twelve-hour mark, and every cop in the city was put on high alert. Every major news outlet flashed Gareth and Daryl’s pictures during their broadcast, and Merle had called in some favors with an old FBI buddy. That helped get a little more help for the search effort, but Gareth had covered his tracks masterfully.

Rick hated the way everyone looked at him when he walked inside. He didn’t need pity; he needed someone to find Daryl. But maybe they all felt as helpless as him. He had no idea where to even start looking for them. The authorities decided to focus on the city, but Gareth could’ve taken him anywhere.

After checking on Carl, he followed the crowd up to the kitchen for lunch. His stomach rumbled, but he had no appetite. A cup of coffee sounded better than the sandwiches Maggie and Carol made for the crew.

“How are you holding up, Rick?” Glenn asked as they plopped down on the couch.

Rick huffed out a pained laugh. “Not well.”

“Yeah… but I’m sure they’ll find him soon.”

“Hope so.”

“It’s Daryl too, so… We know he can take care of himself.”

He couldn’t last night. And Rick hadn’t been there to protect him.

Rick felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He dug it out and glanced at the message that showed up on the screen. He expected an update for Merle any time now.

“Anything?” Glenn asked.

“Nah, nothin’,” he replied, stuffing his phone back in his pocket. “Jus’ gonna go get some air.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Rick’s knees had turned to jelly by the time he made it down the stairs, and he grimaced instead of grinned when Aaron asked him if he was all right. “Need some air,” he tossed over his shoulder before bursting through the door. The sunlight made him squint, but he found his way over to his jeep and hurried inside.

He took a few deep breaths before he retrieved his phone, his hands trembling as he looked down at the message:

[Unknown Sender; 11:18] 7219 Royale Ave, come alone or we all go up in smoke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn't think I'd make it that easy, did you? I promise this is the last cliffhanger...maybe. The battle royale plays out next chapter then I will take you all on a nice trip to Smutty McFluff Town as a thank you for sticking with me!! <3 
> 
> Now if you'll excuse me, I must go dive into the wonderful early bday presents that just arrive from New Zealand curtesy of the amazing lilvixen!!


	45. Bait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl wakes up in a basement... and things get _twisty._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I feel I should warn for mild torture. Hopefully it's not _too_ bad, nothing gruesome or anything, but Daryl is being held captive soooo.... And yes I will also add it ends on another cliffhanger. I'M SORRY!!! _*hangs onto your pant leg*_ Please love me!

Daryl’s head thudded against every step as Gareth dragged him into the basement. Well… he assumed it was Gareth. He hadn’t technically seen the guy or anyone else, and he’d never heard his voice before either. But what were the odds some other psychopath had whacked him over the head and dragged him into what he felt confident labeling a basement.

The asshole had bound his wrists and ankles, and he didn’t have the strength to fight back. He felt drugged, sluggish, like he had when he was in the hospital all those months ago. His arms felt like lead, and he couldn’t tell if his words even made it from his brain to his lips. Not that it mattered with the gag and all.

He tried to remember what had happened. Had he left Rick’s apartment? No… Carol’s apartment, and yes, after dinner and Mario Kart—he hoped the kids were all right. Shit, he knew he should’ve stayed. How could he protect them while trapped inside a damn basement?

The memory of kissing Rick goodnight flashed through his mind, and after that, everything had gone black. That’s how everything looked now with whatever the fuck he had on his head. And the gag in his mouth tasted like old socks—he shuddered at the thought that it was.

He went limp against the damp ground when Gareth let go of his feet. The smell of old house settled in around him, and the sound of a chain clanking somewhere nearby sent terror crawling up his spine. He had to get out of there. Rick would never forgive himself if he didn’t make it out alive, and Daryl couldn’t have that, not after everything he’d been through.

Eventually, the hazy words “sit tight” filtered in, but the fact that he couldn’t fully comprehend what Dick Face kept saying to him somehow made everything ten times worse.

“Don’t get too comfortable.”

Daryl’s veins turned to ice at the sound of the man’s voice because he knew that voice, and it wasn’t Gareth’s. _Philip?_ He struggled against his restraints as a whole new set of fears rushed in. If Philip had taken him, then that meant Gareth was still out there, which meant Rick was still in danger.

“If ya fight it, you’re gonna make it worse.”

He tried his best to say “Fuck you!” but he didn’t think it made it through the gag. His body felt hot despite the cool stone against his back, and he couldn’t quite catch his breath. The icy water poured on his head didn’t offer any relief, but it sure as hell sobered him up. The fogginess from whatever the asshole had dosed him with was lifting. He yelled into the gag and shook his head, which he regretted instantly when it throbbed something awful.

The soaking wet cloth clung to his face, and he had a brief thought that that was what waterboarding felt like. He felt the slow drag of the cloth against his face as it was removed, and he squinted his eyes when the light from a lone bulb jetted into his retinas like a hot knife.

After blinking away his discomfort, Gareth’s face came into focus, a calm expression on it both pissing Daryl off and confusing him. Maybe whatever that asshole gave him had played tricks on him because he knew he’d heard Philip a moment ago.

“You’re new here, so I know there’s a bit of a learning curve involved, but next time,” Gareth said as he yanked Daryl’s head to the side by the hair, “I’d take your friend’s advice.”

Gareth let go and took a few steps back, which had Philip coming into view behind him. He looked like shit from what Daryl could make out of his face underneath a scraggly beard. His dirty shirt had holes in it, and he was barefoot. He moved his leg and Daryl saw the chain around his ankle. It matched the one now fitted around his own.

“Why don’t you two catch up, and we’ll reconvene in the morning,” Gareth said as he made his way toward the staircase. “We have a very special guest coming by in the morning, so get some rest. It’s going to be one helluva show.”

Daryl growled through the gag and tried to shoot daggers at him with his eyes, but that bastard just smirked and started up the stairs two at a time. When Gareth reached the top, he flicked off the light and plunged them into absolute darkness. The door shut with a loud thud, the sound of the lock engaging overwhelming him with feelings of dread.

“Aren’t ya gonna ask how I’ve been?” Philip asked. He chuckled to himself, and Daryl wondered how long he’d been locked away down here. “Guess he didn’t take off your gag… It’s so ya don’t wake the neighbors. I’d say he’ll take it off tomorrow, but ‘m not sure we’ll get one.”

Daryl pulled at the chain around his ankle until Philip’s laugh drowned out the sound of clattering.

“Don’t ya think I tried that? We’re bolted into the cement.”

Philip sighed when he refused to stop testing his chain. No offense to Phil, but Daryl had no intention of dying in a strange basement at the hands of some dickweed psychopath. _Absolutely not._ He was going to find a way to break out of that hellhole so he could protect Rick, or warn him or something. Jesus Christ, he couldn’t just sit there all night doing nothing while Gareth made plans.

“Daryl, you’re jus’ gonna tire yourself out. All we can do right now is try and sleep and see what tomorrow brings.”

Daryl grunted, and Philip sighed again.

“Can you at least get your hands in front of ya?”

He still felt loopy, but at Philip’s suggestion, he eventually managed to contort himself enough to reposition himself like Philip suggested. Except the chain now ran through his arms. But at least he could pull the gag free.

“What the fuck? Jesus, fuck! How long has he had you down here?”

“I don’t know,” Philip said. “He took me from the hospital when you… it was supposed ta be Rick.”

Rage flooded Daryl’s body. Philip had tried to kill Rick, and when it backfired, they had all assumed he’d skipped town. Maybe he should’ve felt sympathetic that Philip had spent the last few months imprisoned by Gareth, but he had a hard time finding any at the moment.

“You tried ta kill ‘im. You almost killed me!”

“And don’t ya think I’ve paid for it? This prick attacked me from behind as I was gettin’ into my truck at the hospital. I went ta see you. I wanted to make sure you were okay. Then he tased me and shot me up. Brought me back here, locked me up, and kept me strung out most of the time on tranquilizers his mother got him from work. All because your boy pissed off the wrong family, so I think we’re even.”

“Why’d he even take you?”

“He said I was stealin’ his thunder. Apparently, he likes ta run the show, and when they were givin’ me credit for his mess, well, he didn’t take to kindly to that. Now ‘m here. And so are you, so iffen we die, at least we’ll be together,” Philip cooed.

Nope, Daryl could not deal with that right now. “We have ta find a way outta here.”

“Yeah, together.”

Daryl rolled his eyes and started chewing on the rope wrapped around his wrists, but as his adrenaline began to wane, he felt himself getting drowsy. “What the hell did they give me?”

“Ketamine. It should’ve worn off by now, but….”

“But what?”

“The hallucinations.”

_Shit._

Just what he needed.

*****

Daryl woke up swinging when another bucket of water was tossed on his head, the discarded metal bucket landing in the corner with a thunk. He’d spent most of the night shivering in the dark, curled up in a ball. The lack of any kind of light was enough to play tricks on his mind, but at least he hadn’t had any of the hallucinations Philip had.

“I’m gonna kill you, asshole!” he sputtered. The basement was already cold as fuck and being drenched would do nothing for his shivering. He lurched toward Gareth, but he got tangled up in the chain and fell back down on his ass.

Gareth cocked his head to the side and studied him. “What exactly does Rick see in you? Is it the fighting spirit?” He walked over to the stairs and picked up a paper plate with a sandwich on it. He dropped it on the ground in front of Philip before turning back to Daryl. “I never met Lori, but I do know _a lot_ about her, and you... well, the two of you couldn’t be more opposite. I just don’t get it.”

Daryl looked to Philip as he bit into his breakfast. His stomach twinged, but out of disgust not hunger.

“Sorry I didn’t bring you anything, but you did kept me up last night rattling those chains.” Gareth rolled his eyes and strutted back over to him. He squatted down, just out of Daryl’s reach, and exaggerated a sigh. “Don’t worry; this is only temporary. In fact… why don’t I send your boyfriend his invitation right now? That way we can get the party started.” Gareth dug in his pocket and pulled out his phone.

Daryl felt helpless tethered to that damn floor. His ankle chaffed where it touched his skin, and he felt exhausted from the events of the last several days. And he was pretty sure he had a concussion and maybe a touch of hypothermia. On top of that, he didn’t know if there was anything he could do to save Rick from whatever Gareth had planned.

“You sorry prick! Ya think yer gonna get away with this?”

Gareth gave him an unimpressed look before his fingers typed a message into his phone. “There’s really no need for name calling. I’m not going to hurt you. It’s Rick I want; you’re just the bait. I’ll admit, I thought about killing you and letting him watch, maybe setting you on fire. He’d run in to save you and then burn up, but let’s be honest, the man is like a damn cockroach.

“I had to show my face before I finally got his attention. And don’t get me started on that failed bomb attempt. I bet he felt guilty about that, huh, since I called him out and everything. I guess it doesn’t matter now. But when I finally had him in my grasp, you came in a fucked it all up. You know, on second thought, I should just kill you.”

“Leave ‘im alone,” Philip growled. “You jus’ said it was Rick ya want. He’s the target. Takin’ his sorry ass out is doing the world a favor.”

Gareth looked bored but didn’t take his eyes off Daryl. “Why does everyone seem to have a hard on for you?”

Daryl spat in his face. “Fuck. You.”

“See, now I am definitely going to have to kill you.”

Daryl’s vision blurred as he watched Gareth straighten and start for the stairs. His eyes wouldn’t focus very well, but thanks to the dim light, he could see the rest of the basement now. Philip sat against the opposite wall just below an old bricked in window. He didn’t think they had any hope of breaking through it.

“I think I might be able to slip my ankle free,” Philip said.

Daryl looked back down at him and found him lathering his ankle up with peanut butter from his sandwich.

His eyes scanned the rest of the room. “Hurry up then. Maybe there’s another way outta here.”

Instead of an exit, he spotted a wall covered in newspaper clippings. He tried his best to blink his vision clear, and just as he heard Gareth descending the stairs, his eyes focused on a familiar picture taped to the wall. It was the sonogram that used to hang on Rick’s refrigerator. The asshole had taken it, probably as some sort of twisted souvenir.

Metal scrapping against stone drew his attention. The sound made his teeth hurt as Gareth stalked toward him with a red handled machete in one hand and a revolver in the other, a put out look on his face.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Gareth said as he tucked the gun into the back of his jeans. “The gun would be more humane, but this is a residential neighborhood. I’d hate to have the cops arrive before our guest of honor, so this will have to do.”

“Ya don’t have ta do this,” Daryl pleaded. “Jus’ let us go, an’ take the first bus outta town.”

“Or jus’ kill Rick,” Philip kindly added.

“Do I want to wait and make him watch or should I just go right ahead?” Gareth asked himself, ignoring them both.

Daryl’s back hit the wall and his breathing picked up. “You really think he’s stupid enough ta come alone?”

“You’re right. He probably won’t, which means he’ll fuck up my plans once again. Sooo, I guess I’ll just go ahead and kill you. That way he’s sure to suffer either way.”

Gareth’s knuckles went white around the handle.

“Don’t.”

“Sorry, it’s nothing personal.”

Daryl held up his hands, his heart seizing as he awaited his fate. He thought about Rick, about how devastated he was going to be, about how he’d blame himself, but Daryl hoped he could recover. Eventually. Merle was going to blame him too, but Michonne would check him for it. He just wished he could’ve told them all goodbye.

The next thirty seconds happened in both the blink of an eye and in slow motion. Gareth raised his arm as he stepped forward, but before he could bring down the machete, Philip whacked him in the head with the metal bucket. It stunned him, but he recovered and spun around to lunge at Philip. From what Daryl could see of him, he looked emaciated, but he still had several inches and pounds on Gareth.

But that didn’t matter in the end.

The sound of two gunshots echoed off the stone floor as the smell of fired gunpowder filled the room. Daryl’s ears rang as he watched Gareth slowly slump to the ground, the machete clinking as it fell from his hand. His chest heaved a few times before all movement stilled.

“I told ya ta leave ‘im alone,” Philip snarled as he stood over his body.

Daryl sat there speechless for a moment, his mind racing as he tried to process what just happened. His adrenaline had jumped through the roof, and he felt his fingers shaking. That whole adage about knives and gunfights would’ve made him laugh if he hadn’t been in shock. “Is he dead?”

Philip stooped down to check his pulse. “Yeah.”

He let out a sigh of relief as his head lulled back against the wall. “It’s over.”

“You okay?” Philip asked, now in front of him and checking him over for injuries.

“Ya saved my life.”

“Don’t I always?”

Philip’s smile unnerved him, but he gave a curt nod. “Get this chain off a’ me.”

“Key’s probably—”

“Gareth? You down there, honey?” a woman called from upstairs. “I got everything you asked for.”

“Be right up,” Philip said as he muffled his voice. He turned to Daryl and held his finger to his lips as he patted Daryl’s thigh with the other, fingers giving a gentle squeeze as they lingered. With a wink he stood, picking up the machete on his way to the stairs.

The thought of being alone in the basement with Gareth’s corpse freaked him out, but at least the bastard was dead. Philip was probably going to incapacitate Gareth’s accomplice-slash-mother and call for help. Hopefully he could find the key to the lock upstairs. Daryl wanted to check Gareth’s pockets, but he’d fallen too far from him, so he had no choice but to wait for Philip to return.

Seconds stretched into minutes, and soon he saw Philip at the top of the stairs. And then he noticed the body he dragged down behind him.

“ ‘S jus’ Mary, Gareth’s mom. She brought some more ketamine,” Philip said, placing her body beside Gareth’s. Her head looked bashed in, and that’s when Daryl saw the blood dripping off the machete. “And you should see what she did with the kitchen. Gareth was right; it’s gonna be a helluva show.”

Daryl swallowed. “Is she—”

“Think Rick’ll be here soon?”

“What?”

“Now that I got rid of these assholes, he’s the only thing that stands in our way.”

Daryl finally managed to pull his eyes away from the bodies in front of him to look up at Philip. The man looked manic. His eyes were bloodshot, but his pupils were as wide as saucers, and Daryl had a bad feeling about this. Rick might’ve been safe from Gareth, but they’d just traded one sociopath for another. They just couldn’t catch a break.

Philip walked toward him and crouched down again, outstretching his hand to run his thumb over Daryl’s cheek. The touch made his stomach flip.

“I saved ya from them. Now I jus’ gotta save ya from Rick.”

“Rick ain’t a threat,” Daryl snapped.

“Ya can’t even see it, can ya?” Philip huffed out a laugh. “Ever since he arrived, he’s been tryin’ ta steal you away from me, but I’m back now. I’m gonna protect us both from ‘im.”

Daryl didn’t know what else to do but play along, appease him and maybe wait for the opportunity to get the jump on him. He nodded, and Philip smiled at him.

“We’re gonna go upstairs now an’ wait for Rick. He should be here soon, so we’ll jus’ follow the plan.”

“What plan?” Daryl asked.

“You’re the bait… ‘M sorry, baby. I hope you’ll forgive me, but we need ta make this convincing.”

Before Daryl could ask what he meant, he felt a pinch in his neck. And all he could think as his vision started to blur was, "No, not again!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can explain... you see, I wrote most of this before season 7 started and then when the whole Daryl torture epi happened, I kind of didn't feel comfortable posting it, so I made you all wait, probably too long, but my muse has been on strike as well. I didn't mean for this to be yet another wonderful cliffhanger either, as much as I love y'all yelling at me, but it was getting really long so I just decided to split it in two. 
> 
> Now... if you'll excuse me, I have to go and cry while I finish the next chapter. And then, I promise, _promise_ the chapter after will be smutty fluffy goodness. And may or may not involve dress uniforms... mmmmm. (hint: it totally does)
> 
> On another note: who saw Phil coming? Muahaha
> 
> Also, Merry fucking Christmas, if you celebrate that sort of thing.


	46. Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick _tries_ to save the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fucking finally.

Sweat from Rick’s palms coated the steering wheel by the time he reached the address sent to him. He hoped he’d gotten there in time. He had no idea what Gareth would to do Daryl or what he was about to walk into, but it didn’t matter. He’d face whatever he had to to save Daryl.

He took a deep breath and got out of the car, shoving the old swiss army knife he found in the glove box into his boot, but that was all the prep he had time for. Maybe it would be enough to get them out alive. As long as he saved Daryl, he’d die happy, but he tried not to think about that as he walked up the walkway, or the possibility of leaving Carl an orphan. Carol would take care of him regardless.

“Hands where I can see ‘em,” Philip ordered as he swung the front door open.

Rick gawked at him in shock. “Philip? But I thought—”

“Inside.”

Rick looked down the barrel of the gun as Philip waved him in, and he put his hands up in surrender. “Where’s Daryl?” he growled, but he got the answer as soon as he stepped inside and saw Daryl slumped over in a kitchen chair with a gag in his mouth. His heart broke. He hadn’t been able to protect him, just like he hadn’t been able to protect Lori. 

“ _You_ took him?”

“I saved ‘im,” Philip snarled. “ _You_ let _them_ take him.”

“If ya hurt him, I’ll kill you.”

Philip nudged him toward the kitchen where another chair sat waiting for him. “Have a seat, and we’ll talk.”

The gun dug into Rick’s back on the way over, and he thought about trying to wrestle it away, but before he’d gathered the courage, the moment had slipped through his fingers. So he sat where Philip pointed and caught the two zip ties thrown at him.

“It’s me ya want, obviously, so jus’ let ‘im go now.”

Philip ignored him. “Fasten your feet ta the chair. And make sure ya loop ‘em through the rungs.”

Rick felt relieved to see Daryl, despite his unconscious state, but he had no idea how they were going to get out of there. Philip had a wild look in his eye, and he thought it might be best to play along for now, depending on what he had planned. He noticed several cans of gas scattered around the house on their way through, and he had a sinking suspicion the place would soon go up in flames.

He gave a quick scanned around for anything he could use to free himself, and he felt a flash of déjà vu from the last time he’d been tied up in a kitchen. The knives on the counter would work if he could get to them, but he didn’t have much chance against a gun. How had he let himself get put back in this position again?

“Hands behind your back.”

Rick winced when Philip zip tied his wrists together. “What’d ya do to ‘im?”

Philip didn’t answer. Instead he moved over toward Daryl and carded his fingers through his hair. Rick felt a seed of rage sprout in the pit of his stomach. Everything in him screamed _wrong._ Philip didn’t deserve to be in the same room as Daryl let alone to touch him so intimately.

“Wake up, sweetheart,” Philip soothed.

“Get your hands off him!”

Philip raised the gun at Rick in warning but didn’t take his eyes off Daryl as he began to stir. “Sorry about this, baby, but it’s jus’ part of the show.” Philip guided Daryl’s head back and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Bile stung the back of Rick’s throat. He needed Daryl to be okay, and despite how fucked up it was, Philip didn’t seem interested in hurting him. “Jus’, jus’ let him go. Ya got what ya wanted.”

“Yer already dead, Rick, ya jus’ don’t know it yet,” Philip said as he turned back to him. Rick tested the strength of his restraints as Philip stalked toward him. “And no one’s gonna miss ya when you’re gone.”

Rick smirked up at him. “Daryl will.”

“Nah, see I saved him from those idiots that had him tied up downstairs. He’s gonna be so grateful that he won’t even remember your name….”

While Philip droned on and on with a self-aggrandized speech, Rick saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Daryl lifted his head enough to make eye contact as he gave a curt nod of his head. It offered Rick a smidgen of relief that he was okay, but he just hoped he stayed that way. Philip must’ve caught him staring because he looked back to Daryl.

“You’re awake. Good. It’s time ta go anyway.” Philip fished a knife out of his pocket and cut the ties around Daryl’s ankles. He grabbed another zip tie off the table and moved around behind him. “I know this ain’t easy on you, baby, but you’re gonna forget about him once we get outta here, okay? So ‘m sorry for the restraints, but I’ll take ‘im off as soon as we get on the road.”

Philip slipped the knife back into his pocket and looped his arm under Daryl’s to help him to his feet. He staggered a little, but Philip kept him up right. Philip pulled him against his chest and pointed the gun back at Rick. Rick had no doubt the lunatic would shot him, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop him. 

“Unfortunately, we don’t have time for good-bye’s, so if you’ll excuse us, we’ll be goin’ now.” Philip walked them backward toward the door, and Rick felt hopeless, his breathing picking up and his eyes starting to water at seeing Daryl so vulnerable.

“It’s not your fault,” Rick managed to say to him before looking briefly at Philip. “Jus’ don’t hurt ‘im.”

“I don’t intend to.” Philip’s lips quirked up as he threw out an arm to fiddle with the knobs on the stove, making sure the igniter didn’t catch.

Rick watched the fumes start to billow up from the burners, the smell of gas slowly seeping into his nose. If he were lucky, he’d suffocate before the fire got to him. But he hadn’t felt very lucky lately, except for the whole falling for Daryl thing. He tore his eyes away from the stove and fixed them on his boyfriend.

The emotion in Daryl’s blue eyes pierced right through his heart, the sharp pain in his chest enough to make him recoil, but if he didn’t make it out alive, he wanted Daryl to be the last thing he ever saw. Maybe he should’ve said something to reassure him, but in the end, neither of them needed to say anything at all with their _I love yous_ written all over their faces.

Daryl struggled but Philip pressed the gun into his side and tightened his grip. He began to sag in Philip’s arms who had to all but carry him through the living room, but Rick made sure to hold back his tears until they made it out the door. He didn’t want Philip to see him fall apart, and he didn’t want panic to be the last thing Daryl saw in his eyes.

As they stood in the threshold, Philip took the lighter out of his pocket and drew it across his thigh to light it. He tossed it on the sofa and waited just long enough to see the fabric catch fire before pulling Daryl outside.

The door slammed shut, and so did any hope Rick had of getting out of there alive.

*

Daryl tried to wiggle free as Philip dragged him toward the car parked in the driveway, but even with all the adrenaline running through him, his groggy brain had difficulty communicating with his limbs. They felt heavy like they were stuck in molasses, but he landed a few kicks before Philip got them to the car.

“Lemme go,” he slurred, doing his best to keep from getting thrown into the backseat. At least it was better than the trunk, but all he could think about was getting back to Rick. He couldn’t let him die in there, not like that, not when he was so fucking close.

“One day, we’re gonna look back at this an’ laugh,” Philip replied as he used his bodyweight to try and maneuver Daryl into the car.

“Not today, asshole,” someone said from behind them, but before the voice could register in Daryl’s brain, he found himself sprawled out on the pavement, Philip’s unconscious body slumping beside him.

He looked up, blinking away the haze. “Rick?”

Merle crouched down in front of him, cupping his neck as his eyes assessed him for injuries. “Thank God yer all right.” Merle nearly crushed him in a hug before pulling out a pocketknife and cutting his hands free. “Where’s Rick?”

Daryl’s breathing picked up. “In the house. Philip turned on the gas.” He tried to stand, but Merle shook his head, a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll get ‘im. You make sure this piece a’ shit don’t go nowhere.” Merle stood, picking up the crowbar he must’ve pelted Philip with, and headed toward the house.

Smoke poured out the front door after Merle jimmied it open, and as soon as the world stopped spinning, Daryl pulling himself to his feet. He could hear sirens in the distance, and despite the fear of Philip waking up and escaping justice, making sure Rick, and now Merle, made it out of that deathtrap was the only thing that mattered.

*

The plastic from the zip ties cut into the flesh of Rick’s wrists as he struggled to free himself. The smell of gas and smoke had his head aching, and the image of Philip dragging Daryl out the door kept replaying in his mind. The fire in the living room had jumped from the couch and began inching its way across the carpet toward a gas can in the corner. He knew he didn’t have much time, but he couldn’t give up. Not yet anyway.

He tilted the chair back just a tad and used all his might to kick out one of his legs. The force popped the zip tie, and after he stopped his flailing and recovered his balance, he attempted to break the second. But before he could, the front door swung open. 

He’d never felt so relieved to see Merle’s ugly mug. He’d gotten his text, thank God.

Except him opening the door had fanned the flames, and before Rick could ask if Daryl was okay, the gas can in the corner lit up. It set off the others like dominos as Merle hurried over to him, knife in hand.

“You okay?” Merle asked, freeing his hands.

“Fine, le’s jus’ get the hell outta here.”

“Rick!” Daryl hollered as he hobbled through the house, coughing through the smoke as it thickened around them.

Most of the tension in Rick’s body melted away at seeing him out of Philip’s grasp, but he should’ve stayed outside where it was safe. They could argue about that later though, right now they had to get out before the gas from the stove caught. Merle cut the tie on his leg, and they raced toward the door, zigzagging through flames biting at their ankles. Rick’s eyes burned, but they were going to make it. All of them.

At least that’s what he’d thought until they got to the driveway and he turned around.

“Daryl?” he yelled when his boyfriend was nowhere in sight.

“Where is he?” Merle snapped.

“He was right behind me!”

“Ya left ‘im?”

Rick ignored him and rushed back to the front door, but the flames had spread too fast. He’d never felt his heart pound so viciously because he knew he’d never make it back in. “Daryl!” He had to try though, to push through, past the wall of fire keeping him out, but then there were arms around him holding him back. “Merle, let me go! He’s still in there!”

Except Merle had other things to worry about, like fighting off the firefighters holding _him_ back too.

“We’ll get him,” one of them said.

Rick nodded, because he believed him. They already had their gear on, and as horrible as it would be to sit there and trust someone else to get Daryl out, it’s all he could do. He watched as their team made their way toward the house, but they were all knocked back when the gas blew, the house rumbling and his ears ringing from the explosion.

Tears stung his eyes as he got back to his feet, absentmindedly taking in the yellow blobs in full retreat. His hands trembled as he shook his head in disbelief. Daryl was still in there, and if they weren’t going to get him out then he’d do it himself. Merle stopped him this time, hands on his shoulders and his cheeks drenched in tears.

“I-it’s too late.”

*

The good news was his ribs weren’t broken. The bad news: he might’ve had a little whiplash. Daryl knew it was stupid really, going back for that damn sonogram, but he also knew how much it had meant to Rick, and especially to Carl. They probably could’ve gotten a new one from the doctor or something, but that was the original, the one they’d received as a family back before the accident. 

So against his better judgment, he took a slight detour into the basement.

After he’d retrieved it he knew he’d never make it to the front door. He had a feeling the gas would go at any moment, so he looked for the backdoor only to find it and slip out just as the explosion occurred. It threw him a little, tweaked his neck, and skinned his knee, but he got up and made his way around the house.

The wooden gate stuck and he had to throw his shoulder into it to force it open. Several fire trucks lined the curb when he made it through, and he saw two cops leading a handcuffed Philip to a police car, but he didn’t care about any of that. 

When he rounded the corner and saw Rick and Merle doing something he never thought he’d see in a thousand years. They were hugging, and as amazing as it seemed, his heart kind of seized with guilt because he had a feeling they thought he’d died.

“Rick,” he croaked, his voice hoarse from the smoke.

Daryl knew it didn’t happen in slow motion, but it sure as shit felt like it as they made their way to each other, Rick’s eyes wide in disbelief. Daryl’s body sagged against him when Rick wrapped his arms around him and crushed their lips together in a painfully perfect kiss that nearly took his breath away, but that could’ve been the smoke.

“I thought.…” Rick said, his breath shaky as he pressed his forehead to Daryl’s.

“Yeah, sorry.”

Then Merle joined them, pulling them both into another hug that he didn’t have the energy to fight. “Don’t ya ever do that again, baby brother,” Merle whispered in his ear. He nodded as best as he could.

“Hey y’all, we need to check you over,” someone said, one of the paramedics probably, but Merle barked at them and told them they needed a minute. He stepped back as well and gave him and Rick some air, but after another brief kiss Daryl pulled back.

“I, uh, had to go back for this.” He held up the sonogram, which took Rick a second to recognize. “He must’a snagged it, had it tacked up in the basement. Thought ya might want it back.”

Rick’s eyes shined, red rimmed from tears. “Not as much as I wanted _you_ back, but thank you.”

Daryl rolled his eyes and tried to stave off his smile, but then Rick pulled him flush against him and kissed him so hard the world nearly fell off its axis. He could feel the heat coming off the burning house behind him, but he still got goosebumps when Rick ran fingers through his hair.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, darlin’.”

“Ya don’t think there’s a chance we could skip the hospit—”

“No chance in hell,” Rick said, his voice dropping low, “but if you’re good, maybe we can play nurse.”

Daryl knew he’d have to spend at least one night in the hospital, but at least Rick would be beside him. And Merle would probably guard the door. He didn’t care though because it was finally over. He’d stepped over Gareth’s dead body when he grabbed the sonogram, and he flipped Philip off as they walked by the cruiser he sat in. Maybe he should’ve felt sorry for the psycho after getting himself kidnapped, but he really couldn’t find it in him, not after he tried to kill Rick.

But they were safe, and happy, and fuck if they both didn’t deserve it after everything they’d been through. All he wanted now was a good night’s rest in Rick’s arms. And yeah, it was sappy and silly, but in the end, he figured the universe owed them a bit of peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter and an epilogue. So bittersweet.


	47. Coming Out Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Daryl have a little fun at the Firefighter's Ball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today is the 2 year anniversary of this piece of shit, and I had hoped to have it finished by now. Just the epilogue left though, so maybe I can punch it out today, we'll see. But anyway, thanks for sticking with this thing for 47 chapters, 160+k words, and 730 days. You have my sympathy.

Daryl woke to blinding pain shooting down his shin. He sat up readying himself for a fight when he heard Rick mumbling beside him as he thrashed around on the bed. “Hey, darlin’,” he soothed, leaning over to try and rouse Rick from his nightmare. It took a bit of coaxing, but he woke with a sharp intake of breath, hands reaching out to reassure them both things were okay.

Two months had passed since the “incident” with Gareth and Philip. The former was dead, the latter detained in the psychiatric ward of one of Georgia’s finest prisons. But neither comfort kept the memories from resurfacing from time to time, be it during the day or in their dreams. They’d spent the first month playing nightmare tag, taking turns waking the other and sometimes Carl, but that had lessened as time went on.

Other than that, neither had any lasting injuries. Daryl would’ve almost preferred them to PTSD and the panic attacks, invisible demons he couldn’t see, but they were working through it. They both had mandatory counseling with the department shrink who thought himself more of a Zen master than a doctor. Dr. Rovia suggested they try martial arts for self-defense and as a release. Carl took to it like a pro, and he had to admit it was helping his mental state.

But Rick helped the most. 

“Did I wake ya?” Rick asked, though he probably already knew the answer.

“ ‘S fine,” Daryl said, laying back down and positioning himself so he could play with Rick’s curls. “We went three days. That’s a new record.”

Rick yawned and pulled Daryl closer, nuzzling into his neck. “Must be the new place. Gotta get used to it.”

Daryl hummed in reply. His muscles still felt sore from carrying the new couch up three goddamn flights of stairs. Despite having his own place, Daryl hadn’t slept there since before everything happened. Except the one night he and Rick needed some alone time, but they didn’t do much sleeping. Two teenagers, three adults, and a cat in a two-bedroom at Carol’s wasn’t exactly ideal, but they’d made it work. Up until Carl had had enough.

Now they had Rick and Carl moved into a new place and had both decided not to address the fact they were practically living together. Carl hadn’t minded, he’d been the one to invite Daryl with them apartment hunting, and now they had everything settled. Even Smokestack seemed happy to lounge around in all the moving boxes.

“Same dream?” Daryl asked after a while.

“Yeah,” Rick said as he sighed. “You burnin’ up and me helpless ta save ya.”

“Ain’t ever gonna happen.”

“Baby, we’re firefighters. It’s still could.”

Daryl scoffed and squeezed Rick a little tighter, unwilling to entertain the possibility. “So what? Ya wanna retire?”

“And do what? Take up carpentry?” Rick snickered and Daryl shook his head.

“Was thinking more like startin’ a bakery with as many donuts as you eat, but you’d have the place condemned before the grand openin’.”

Rick let out an indignant huff and repositioned himself so his head rested against Daryl’s chest. “We’d both go crazy. Wouldn’t we?”

“Yeah, prolly.”

Daryl pressed a kiss to Rick’s forehead and tangled his fingers in his hair, doing his best to chase away any remnants of his nightmare. It proved effective when Rick fell asleep fast, quiet snores making Daryl smile, but it wasn’t long until he followed him under, comforted by the feel of Rick’s body against his.

*****

Daryl woke up alone sometime after nine to the aroma of bacon and coffee. He found Carl and Rick eating on the couch watching cartoons, so he made himself a plate and joined them. Rick shot him a dirty look when he put his feet up on the new coffee table, but he ignored him.

“Picked up our suits from the drycleaners,” Rick said as he reached for Daryl’s ankles to remove them.

Daryl groaned and let his feet sink to the floor. “We don’t have ta go, do we?”

“Well, no, but they have an open bar, and we already kind of agreed.”

“Aww, what’s the matter, Daryl? Don’t know how to dance?” Carl teased.

He scoffed, and reached behind Rick to swat the little fucker upside the head.

“We deserve a break, Daryl, to have a little fun,” Rick said. “Besides,” he continued, leaning in to whisper, “I booked us a room.”

Carl made a gagging noise and jumped off the couch. “I’m gonna be sick.”

Rick made puppy dog eyes at him until he gave in. _Cheating Bastard._ “Fine, we’ll go ta yer damn Ball, but I ain’t dancin’ with your sorry ass.”

“Fine… I’ll jus’ find someone else ta twirl me around the dance floor,” Rick challenged, but they both knew he’d cave. 

Goddammit! Sometimes he seriously questioned his sanity. But Rick deserved nice things, and if he wanted to go do the stupid Firefighter’s Ball, then Daryl would be right by his side bitching and moaning the whole fucking time. They’d show their face, have a few drinks, dance _one_ song, and then find their way to the room Rick promised. How bad could it really be?

*****

“If one more person comes up and asks how I’m doin’, ‘m gonna punch ‘em in the fuckin’ face,” Daryl snarled, tossing back another shot of whiskey.

“They’re jus’ checkin’ up on us. We kinda went through hell not long ago,” Rick said before taking a pull from his beer.

Daryl didn’t need sympathy or the looks of pity people kept sending their way. And he sure as shit didn’t need another asshole gawking at them when Rick slipped an arm around him. News of them had disseminated through the whole department after their ordeal, but it felt more like their Coming Out Ball. Why did people have to make such a big deal out of it?

“Come on, Dar! We’re supposed to be havin’ fun,” Maggie said. She held out her hand to him, and he stared down at it for a second. “Le’s have a dance.”

Before he could say no, she’d grabbed him by the wrist and all but dragged him onto the dance floor. She may not look it, but the girl had strength when she wanted to. A terrible eight’s song started blaring through the speakers as Maggie wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Now tell me what’s got ya so wound up?”

His gaze fluttered through the crowed, and he spotted at least three sets of eyes on him. “People won’t stop starin’. Feel like I should be in a damn zoo.”

“Ahh, yeah, I might’ve noticed. But they’re probably jus’ worried about y’all. It’s what we do. After everyone’s had a few drinks, it’ll stop.” 

He let Maggie lead as they swayed to the song. “Last year I came with a woman,” he blurted out. Maggie pulled back enough to catch his eye. He loved Rick, yes, but he couldn’t deny that dating a man still took some getting used to. “People keep lookin’ at me, at us. And I know what they’re thinkin’.”

She let out a sigh as she shook her head. “It ain’t because of that. And even if it was… after everythang y’all’ve jus’ been through, you’re gonna let a few idiots ruin the first night of fun we’ve had in months? Since when does Daryl Dixon give two shits about what anyone else thinks?”

He looked over her shoulder at Rick and watched him throw his head back as he laughed. His curls looked exquisite tonight, little ringlets sticking out in every direction. His Dress Blues fit him perfectly and had heat coiling in the pit of Daryl’s stomach. When he pressed his bottle of beer to his lips, Daryl bit his cheek. That beautiful man was all his. 

So why the hell was he cowering away instead of showing him off to the world?

“Since never.”

After pulling away, he led Maggie back to the bar, stopping in front of Rick who looked startled at his sudden reappearance. His brows shot up, and a look of concern replaced the carefree smile he’d had when Daryl walked up. “What is it?”

Daryl shook his head. “Nothin’… I jus’ realized how good ya look in uniform.” Rick’s smile could’ve melted icebergs, and Daryl leaned in to kiss him, gawkers be damned. “Come on then,” he said, motioning toward the dance floor with his head.

Rick latched onto his elbow and let Daryl lead them through the crowd to a spot just off center. He spun to face Rick, his hands finding their way to solid hips as the song transitioned to a ballad. Rick’s eyes had a glossy look from the alcohol, and the rosy hue of his cheeks had Daryl’s knees going wobbly. He didn’t much care who had eyes on them after that, his attention focused solely on his boyfriend.

The next song had a quicker tempo, but Daryl felt content to keep their current pace as he slipped his hands around to Rick’s lower back to pull them closer together. Rick flashed him a questioning look, but Daryl just smirked and pecked him on the lips.

“Don’t know what got into you, but I like it,” Rick said.

Right before he could counter with something dirty, he heard Merle’s cackle filtering through the music. He rolled his eyes when he felt a meaty hand land on his shoulder. “Wha’s up, baby brother?”

“What’s it look like?”

“Did ya wanna cut in?” Rick asked, waggling his brows a little.

“I do,” Michonne replied. She took Rick’s hand and untangled them, but by that time, half their House had made their way onto the dance floor and things morphed into one big mosh pit when Prodigy’s _Firestarter_ rumbled through the ballroom.

The next few hours were a blur of alcohol, sweaty bodies, and loud music. And Maggie had been right, or maybe he just didn’t care anymore, but no one batted an eye when he started making out with Rick to a song about _True Love_ and assholes. It seemed appropriate.

“Okay, think it’s time ta head up stairs,” Rick said, nearly breathless when Daryl’s fingers burrowed under his uniform jacket. Like he could argue with that.

They’d already gotten the key and deposited their bags in their room, so they made a quick exit, ignoring everyone’s question about where they were going. Unfortunately another couple got onto the elevator with them, so Daryl had to spend an excruciatingly long ride up to their floor half hard as he resisted the urge to tear Rick’s uniform off.

It took Rick a few tries to get the card in the reader, which he decided not to comment on, though it probably had a lot to do with Daryl sucking on his neck as he began working on Rick’s belt. He had it unfastened by the time they made it inside, and Rick had him pinned against the wall, tongue licking into his mouth before the door even shut.

“There’s too many buttons on these things,” Rick groaned, frustration growing the longer he struggled with Daryl’s jacket.

“Told ya not ta drink so much, Rick,” Daryl chided as he slapped his hands away. “We gotta work tomorrow.”

“Jus’ wanted ta celebrate with ya.”

Daryl finished with his jacket and started on Rick’s who had latched onto that amazing spot on his neck. “Y-yeah, I know.” He pulled Rick further into the room and tossed their jackets on a chair. “Think ya can handle sticking tab a into slot b?”

Rick scoffed. “I’m drunk, but I ain’t _that_ drunk.”

They finished stripping as they made their way to the bed, and Daryl reached for the bottle of lube he’d conveniently placed on the nightstand earlier before flopping down on the soft mattress. He squirted lube on his fingers and spread his legs, which seemed to sober Rick up pretty goddamn fast. 

Rick watched with hungry eyes as he slipped in a finger, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips as Daryl pushed all the way in. Daryl let out a haggard sigh as he pulled back then started working himself open. His body went tingly when Rick’s stubble grated against the sensitive skin of his thigh, his cock beginning to ache as it lay heavy on his belly. He broke out in goosebumps as Rick peppered a trail of kisses up his the inside of his leg.

Rick chuckled and took hold of Daryl’s cock. “Tab a, huh?”

“Shuddup.”

“Gladly,” he said with a wink before tentatively teasing the tip.

Daryl’s rhythm faltered when those plump, pink lips enveloped him. He had to look away for a moment, the intensity of Rick’s eyes almost too much to bear. Once he recovered, he pushed in a second finger. A moan escaped him at the delectable pressure, and he almost came when Rick hummed out a laugh on his shaft.

“Slow down, asshole,” Daryl grunted.

“How can I when ya look like this?”

Rick wrestled away the bottle of lube, and before he knew it, Daryl had a third finger toying with the rim of his ass. Waves of pleasure rolled over him when Rick breeched him, and it didn’t take long to finished the job. He removed his fingers, but Rick took a little more time to explore, working over Daryl’s prostate as he writhed on the bed.

“Ya gonna fuck me or what?” Daryl panted, too close to the edge. Despite their inebriated state, he wanted more than just a blowjob.

A wicked grin contorted the features of Rick’s face as he took hold of Daryl’s thighs, manhandling and lifting his hips to align their bodies. Daryl had to bite his lip as Rick slid home, his hands fisting in the stiff linens as the stretch set his whole body on fire. The beautiful drag of heat dissipated as Rick leaned down to kiss him gently, but after Daryl yanked his head back by the curls to scrape his teeth down Rick’s neck, any thoughts of sweet and slow flew right out the window.

Hard and fast worked just as well.

They had to stop for a moment when Rick muttered something about slot b that had both of them dissolving into giggles, but then they changed positions and Daryl doubled down prepared to ride his man to the finish line. His feet hurt from dancing all evening, and his thighs soon started to burn, but looking down at Rick had him wanting to hold off their happy ending for as long as he could.

Nails dug into his back as Rick sat up to kiss him rough and dirty, and that alone almost pushed him to the breaking point, but then Rick’s calloused hand found its way to his cock, and he chased the sweet release until he’d spilt out between them, his sweat-soaked body shivering with ecstasy. He briefly registered someone pounding on the wall, but his mind was so consumed with the feel of Rick pulsing inside him that he didn’t give a fuck about anything else. The hotel could’ve fallen down around them for all he cared.

Rick garbled his name and stiffened below him, and all Daryl could do was squeeze him tight as they bathed in the afterglow of a pretty damn good orgasm.

“No champagne or roses?” Daryl mocked once they’d cleaned themselves up. He’d buried himself in the sheets as he waited for Rick to join him.

“Are ya turnin’ into a romantic on me, darlin’?” Rick purred, sauntering toward the bed.

Daryl gave a snort of derision and lifted the covers so he could slip in. He’d never admit it, but he kind of liked Rick’s romantic side, and if he happened to pick up a few tips along the way, so be it. “Nah, think ya got it covered.” He grabbed Rick’s ass and pulled him close, their spent bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces. “Next round’s mine.”

“Mhm.”

“We should order room service,” Daryl said as his stomach rumbled.

“Think we can call in sick tomorrow?”

“Nope.”

“Damn.”

Rick began drawing random patterns on his chest and Daryl leaned over to press a kiss to his lips. “No nightmares tonight, okay?”

“Ditto… we’re doin’ better, y’know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“An’ I know ya didn’t wanna come, but I had fun tonight.”

So had Daryl, and even though he made a fuss about it, he was glad Rick dragged him along. They had a ways to go on the road to recovery, but he could see their progress. Tonight had been a good night, and Rick was right, they deserved some fun after everything they went through. He felt truly content for the first time since Rick came into his life, and he only saw clear skies ahead. 

Now if only he could reach the damn room service menu without dislodging Rick from his chest….


	48. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end.

Rick walked into the firehouse and was immediately assaulted by a cupcake to the face. The sweet raspberry frosting sent a shockwave through him when the sugar hit his tongue, and he froze in the threshold as a group of his idiot work family yelled “Happy Anniversary!”

“You coulda warned me,” he huffed over his shoulder at Daryl. He tried to spin around to face him so he could spread the misery with a sticky kiss, but Daryl kept him from it. “Come on, darlin’. Don’t ya wanna taste?”

“Maybe later.”

Shane whistled then muttered for them to get a room as Maggie handed him a napkin to wipe his face. “Remind me why I didn’t quit when I had the chance?” Rick teased while the crowd began to disperse through the house.

“I ask myself that everyday,” Daryl said, skirting by him along the wall. Rick would make sure to pay him back later.

He couldn’t believe a year had passed since he’d first set foot in Firehouse Twelve. He’d found a family in them and a home among their quirks and craziness. And he’d also found love again, which he hadn’t thought possible a year ago. Of course he’d almost died several times as well, but he didn’t want to think about the bad times.

“ ‘M still sticky,” he pouted when he got to the kitchen upstairs. He went over to the sink to wet a paper towel, and on further review, he should’ve paid better attention to the cackle Shane let out as he turned on the faucet. Before he knew what had happened, the sprayer soaked the front of him. He flailed around, the cold water shocking him to the core before he managed to turn the damn thing off. “I hate all ‘a you!”

“That was all Daryl,” Shane admitted when Rick rounded on him. 

He felt like an angry wet cat as he stalked toward Daryl. “Ya think this is funny?”

“Jus’ payin’ ya back for the food colorin’ on my toothbrush, Asshole,” Daryl said as he used Michonne like a human shield.

“Worth it,” Rick said, laughing to himself at the memory of Daryl and his blue lips. “Still not convinced ya didn’t blow a smurf.”

“Fuck you.”

“Not in my damn House,” Merle grumbled as he walked through the room. “An’ ya might wanna get changed, Rick, before we catch a call or somethin’.”

“Sure thing, Merle. Jus’ gotta hug my bastard boyfriend first.”

Right on cue, Michonne slipped Daryl’s grasp and Rick pounced, catching Daryl in a tight hug that he hoped would wet his shirt too. “I hate you the most.”

Daryl glowered at him. “Feelin’s mutual.”

“Is it? ‘Cause I’m feelin’ somethin’ different,” Rick whispered to him right before planting a sloppy kiss on his lips. They tried to keep the PDAs to a minimum while on duty, but sometimes Rick just couldn’t resist.

“ ‘Least ya ain’t sticky anymore.”

“We can fix that.”

Before Rick could hit him over the head and drag him off somewhere, the siren blared and they went scattering toward their rigs. Rick pulled on a dry shirt on the way, but it turned out to be a car accident call that didn’t take much effort to clean up. And thankfully, the rest of their shift turned out to be rather uneventful. He’d take it. He still had a ways to go before he fully recovered from the year they had.

*

Rick had trouble falling asleep that night. Maybe he should’ve crawled in bed with Daryl when Morgan started snoring beside him—cuddling might’ve helped ease his mind—but he figured he had to let the sugar rush from the fuck ton of cupcakes he ate throughout the day run its course. In the meantime, an honest reflection of how far he’d come wouldn’t hurt.

His mind raced as he thought back on all the memories he had of the past year. He remembered his first day and dough-eyed Glenn sticking to him like glue. He remembered the intensity of Daryl’s gaze the first time—and almost every time—they met. He remembered the name of every life he hadn’t been able to save and the ones he had.

And he remembered how miserable, how hollow he’d started the previous year out. Mourning Lori and the baby had destroyed him, but Daryl had built him back up, transformed him into a new man, one his son could be proud of. They’d all stared down death and spit in its face, and now they’d started moving on from darkness. He felt content and happy for the first time in years, and he had Carl and Daryl and his new family to thank for it.

Daryl had let his lease lapse a few weeks prior, and they’d quietly made living together official. Carl made the baseball team and enjoyed showing them both up in their karate class. And the prosecutor in charge of Philip’s case assured them his visit to the Big House was going to be a long one. After everything they’d been through, it almost felt strange for things to go their way, but he wanted to relish it.

Sometime after midnight, he got up to fetch a bottle of water. When he turned to go back to his bunk, he saw Daryl standing in the doorway, hair deliciously disheveled and his sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips and begging Rick’s fingers to take a dip inside.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” Daryl asked, voice soft in the darkened room.

“Too much sugar, I suppose.”

“Hmm… maybe I can fix that.”

He felt Daryl smirk against his lips as they wrapped themselves around each other. Then Daryl pulled him toward the bathroom, both of their shirts discarded by the time they got to the closest shower stall. Daryl turned on the water before stepping out of his sweats, his cock hypnotizing Rick as it bobbed with his movements. If Daryl had had something else in mind, he didn’t seemed bothered about the change in plans when Rick sunk to his knees, salty precome a refreshing change from all the sweet. 

This time last year, he’d never even thought about sucking a dick, but now he was practically a pro. He could probably medal in the porn Olympics if Daryl’s moans were anything to go by. He wondered what Lori would’ve said about how things had turned out for him, but that thought came to a screeching halt when Daryl thrust into his mouth, the head of his cock slipping right down the back of his throat.

Yep, a shiny gold medal. He’d get a display case for it and mount it above their bed.

“Fuck, Rick! I’m gonna—shit, do that again!”

Like he could deny Daryl anything. They’d come so far, from enemies to lovers, and maybe somewhere down the line something more, but this, Daryl’s head thrown back, chest heaving, fingers tightening in his hair… well, Rick promised himself he’d savor every minute of it. But maybe next time because the longer it took, the higher the chance they’d get caught in the act.

He reached down to pump his cock, not bothering to hold back when his orgasm welled up inside him. Daryl had already reached the peak, the salacious sounds he made pulling Rick with him down the other side. He caught his breath as he wrung every last drop from them both before he stood and captured Daryl’s lips for a heated kiss, all tongues and teeth and breathy moans.

“We should prolly get out before we get a call,” Daryl finally said, pushing Rick away so he could turn off the water. He reached for a couple of towels, handing one to Rick as he stepped out of the shower. “Might wanna use my deodorant.”

Rick frowned at him as he tried to figure out what that meant. “Do I wanna know why?”

“Pretty sure I saw Merle replacin’ yours with cream cheese.”

He groaned and covered his face with his towel. “I hate this place.”

“Liar.”

Once they redressed, they headed back to bed, Rick forgoing his to slip into Daryl’s. “Pretty strange year,” he whispered as they snuggled under the blanket.

“Can’t really complain,” Daryl replied, Rick smiling when he tightened his hold.

“Me either, jus’ sayin’, but I think this one’ll be better.”

Daryl hummed in agreement. “Got you in my arms, so… I reckon it already is.”

 

~The End~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so that was an adventure. Thank you so much to everyone who read this thing all the way through, those who left kudos and comments, who liked it enough to add a bookmark, and all the amazing people who subbed to it to make sure they never missed an update. I honestly wouldn't have finished without all of you cheering me on, so thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking this journey with me, for pushing me when I couldn't push myself, and for giving me the strength to kick writer's block in the ass. <333
> 
> *alternate ending* So I was originally going to end on a scene with Philip in a basement lighting a picture of Rick and Daryl on fire, but I just couldn't do it. After everything they've been through, I needed them to be happy.


End file.
